


never going back to okay

by thisapathy



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Codependency, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, M/M, in which carl thinks he's a badass when he's absolutely not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-19 05:17:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4734065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisapathy/pseuds/thisapathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But the fact is, Rick is everything for Carl: father, best friend, lover. Carl knows it's dangerous and risky but he doesn't care and he isn't going to start changing things now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> takes place after [love you like xo](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3847654) and [ starve this sin ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4175166/chapters/9426372). unbeta'd so any mistakes are my own. tags will be added as things progress. the first actual chapter should be up within a week or two.

The beeping alarm clock is what wakes Carl. It seems impossible that it's already going off; it feels like he just fell asleep. He feels Rick stir beside him, sitting at the edge of the bed and disabling the obnoxious alarm.

"You awake?"

Carl gives him non-committal grunt and pulls the blanket up to his shoulders.

"C'mon, get up."

"I don't want to," Carl retorts.

Rick sighs, heavy and dramatic. "You need to be up by the time I'm out of the shower." Rick walks into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door.

Carl hears the shower turn on and has no intention of getting up anytime soon. In fact, he decides that he wants to skip school altogether today because he's stiff and sore and he hates Mondays. His paper is due, but he knows that if he emails it to his teacher before class starts, that will count as it being turned in on time.

Rick is known for ridiculously short showers, and it's insane that he's out literally in two minutes before Carl can even fall back to sleep. He listens quietly to the rustle of clothes as Rick pulls his pants on.

"Carl, get up."

"I'm not going," he mutters into his pillow

"Get up."

"No."

"Alright." Without warning, Rick rips the quilt off and the rush of cold air that hits Carl's nearly naked body is completely unwelcome.

"Hey!"

Rick flips Carl onto his back and drags him to the edge of the bed.

Carl's unsure of where this is going but as soon as Rick's mouth is on him he decides he doesn't care.

Rick kisses softly and slowly at first, lips warm against Carl's pale skin, and the scratch of Rick's beard leaves him tingling. It gets more intense as Rick trails down his torso, sucking here and there, before biting just below his navel.

Carl sucks in a sharp breath and puts every other thought about school and his paper aside because Rick's hands are moving everywhere. He feels completely enveloped in all of this and he loves it. He can't hold back the noises, small puffs of air escaping through his lips followed by faint moans. He reaches down and threads his fingers in Rick's damp hair as Rick continues his ministrations.

Rick reaches up, feeling Carl's smooth skin, leaves kisses all over his belly and slim waist. He curls one hand over Carl's hip and the other he smooths across Carl's skin, followed by endless kisses and licks.

"You awake now?" he asks, taunting.

”Please,” Carl breathes, doesn't answer the question, just wants Rick to do something _more_.

But as quickly as Rick started, he stops. "I gotta get going."

Carl is both disappointed and not surprised; Rick's never given in to a morning fuck. With a soft sigh, Carl sits up, arms wrapping around his knees. "Or you could stay home with me."

Rick retrieves a white shirt and pulls it on, followed by his uniform shirt. "Don't you have a paper to turn in?"

"I could just email it," Carl tries, but Rick isn't buying it.

"Or you could just go."

"Are you telling me to go?" Carl asks; usually Rick lets him make these decisions.

"I'm telling you I think you should go to school." He crosses back to the bed again, leaning over to kiss the top of Carl's head. "I gotta leave."

Carl's so annoyed that he could scream but refuses to let it show. Instead, he grabs the collar of Rick's shirt and pulls him down for a kiss. A _real_ kiss, not just one on the head. "Be safe. I love you," he murmurs softly, and then smiles when Rick presses another kiss to his forehead.

"Go to school," Rick replies. "I'll see you when I get home."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a bit shorter than I would've liked, but I feel like if I added anything else it would've taken away from the story. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ hopefully the next chapter will be longer. also I'm super ashamed that it took me this long to post an actual chapter. sorry. :/

Carl makes it to school 7 minutes late. He could’ve been on time had he not taken a shower, but deemed one necessary after two bouts of sex in less than 24 hours.

Since he’s late to first period, he has to convince his history teacher to accept his paper. She almost doesn’t, but at his suggestion of docking 7 points right off the top (one for every minute he’s late) she relents, and Carl breathes a ‘thank you’ before taking his seat.

He quickly learns that since their papers have been turned in, today is a free day. Instead of working on something for another class, he plugs his phone in to charge and rests his head on his desk and tries not to fall asleep.

* * *

Second period is just as uneventful. Nearly half the class is missing, the only kid Carl chooses to talk to happens to be one of them, so Carl works on his open book test alone.

The minutes drag on. Even as he’s taking his time, writing every single answer as it’s worded in the book, he swears the class will never end.

He ghosts a finger over one of the hickeys Rick left last night and suppresses a shiver.

* * *

When the bell rings he makes his way to his locker. He has first lunch, but wants to get his books sorted now so he doesn’t have to worry about it later.

"You didn't text me back last night."

He glances up from his locker to find Sophia standing there, books hugged against her chest, hair tucked behind her ear, hazel eyes gazing at him.

"My phone died. Sorry," he apologizes, shuffling through his locker looking for his tattered copy of _The Glass Menagerie_. (It's Rick's copy, actually, from when he was in school.) He finds it under his physics book, plucks it out and slides it into his backpack.

"Okay," Sophia replies with a shrug, almost like she doesn't believe him.

It doesn't bother him because it's true, and he read her text after he charged his phone in first period this morning. He closes his locker, slings his backpack over his shoulder. "Wanna get lunch?"

"Sure."

* * *

They take Sophia's car (Ed's old car, actually; Sophia inherited it when he died) to the McDonald's off the highway. Most of the ride is silent, conversation avoided in favor of a mix CD Sophia's friend Brian made. They drive back to school, sit in the parking lot as they eat their lunch. And then Sophia turns the car off and Carl  _knows_ what that means.

"How was your mom's?"

Carl steals one of her fries, takes a drink of Coke to stall his reply. He doesn't want to talk about it, but he's sure Sophia wouldn't accept that as an answer. He's only prolonging the inevitable if he doesn't tell her.

"My mom's pregnant," he admits. The words tumble out of his mouth like rocks down a hill.

Sophia's jaw drops. "Oh my god, really?"

"Really."

"That's... different."

He snorts. "She didn't even tell me herself. It was an accident that I even found out. I was so mad. I told her I hated her. I don't, but..."

Sophia just hums. She knows what it's like to one good parent and one less-than-desirable one. (It's not that Lori's a terrible mother, even; she just makes selfish decisions.)

Sophia has a great mom; she's not selfish at all. Yeah, Carol was married to an abusive asshole, but Ed put food on the table and Carol put up with his bullshit for far too long. When Carol decided to leave Ed, pack a bag and take Sophia with her, Ed killed himself.

Carl went to the funeral. Carol didn't cry; Sophia only got teary.

With Ed's life insurance, Carol bought the King County Cafe and is doing well. Carl doesn't know how Sophia turned out to be so strong, but he kind of marvels at it.

Suddenly Carl doesn't feel like eating anymore, tosses half his burger back into the paper sack. The silence between them isn't companionable, it's tense and Carl hates it but he doesn't feel like taking about anything. Instead, he opens the pictures on his phone to the one he took with Rick the night before. He smiles faintly, careful to tilt the screen away from Sophia's view. Eyes closed, he remembers the warmth of Rick's mouth and the scratch of Rick's beard and the grip of Rick's fingers that left bruises on his hips.

The shuffling of a paper bag brings Carl back into the present.

"We should go inside," Sophia says. "The bell's about to ring."

Carl nods, grabbing his backpack and climbing out of the car. They walk in silence for a few steps, Carl still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his mother, who's barely on the right side of 40, is pregnant. He's kind of always wanted a sibling, but imagined that it would happen when Lori and Rick were still married, not when Lori left Rick for Shane and when Carl's almost 18. He wonders if it'll be a boy or a girl, and then he wonders why he even cares.

As they're rounding a corner, Sophia nudges him, motioning. "Isn't that your mom's van?"

He doesn't even have to look twice; he'd know that faded gold paint anywhere. He doesn’t bother responding to Sophia, instead quickens his pace to a light jog until he’s through the front office doors. There, his mother is sitting in one of the waiting chairs with her purse in her lap and worry written all over her face. Her lips form a light line.

Carl has a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. His mind is screaming _Rick Rick Rick_ because he knows that’s what this is about; Rick’s been hurt or worse, but he can’t ask, can’t force the words out of his mouth.

Lori stands up to greet him, a sense of urgency in her gait, yet still somewhat collected. “C’mon,” she says gravely.

Carl’s too scared to ask where they’re going.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> firstly, i am so sorry this took so long to update. 2 weeks ago i went from working about 15 hours a week to working 35 hours a week. that along with other things like tornadoes, car trouble and choosing to work out over writing have kept me from writing as much as i'd like. i'm still trying to find a good balance for everything but hopefully the next chapter won't take me a month to get up.

"What happened?"

"Get in the van," Lori says, fake-calm. Her rapidly blinking eyes give her away.

Carl does as he's told, tosses his backpack into the backseat. "What happened? It's Dad, right?"

Lori nods, starts the van, pulls out of the parking lot. "He was shot. He's—"

" _Shot_?" His mind is going in a thousand different directions at once, heart pounding in his chest, and he's pretty sure he's going to throw up.

"He's alright," she says, rushed. "He's okay, he's conscious. I talked to him."

"Where'd he get shot at?"

"In the leg. He's okay," Lori says again. "He may need surgery to remove—"

"When?" Carl snaps, because he needs to know; he has to be there if that happens. He has to.

"I don't know. Please just—just relax. He's okay, it's not life-threatening. Where were you, anyway?"

"Sophia and I left to get lunch."

"You know you're not supposed to leave campus."

"I know that," Carl sighs. Of course Lori is more worried about him leaving school than she is about Rick getting shot at work.

"Are you two—?"

"No," Carl laughs, because Sophia is his best friend. He knows better than to try to turn friendship into something more. The idea of them together is comical. And it's not that Carl likes boys, even. Yeah, he gave a senior a handjob when he was a freshman, but he's also kissed girls. He's only ever been with Rick, and the thought of being with someone else makes him nauseous. "We're just friends."

Thankfully, the ride to the hospital is short. Carl grabs his backpack from the back seat and he's out of the van before Lori even puts it in park. He waits impatiently for her to get out of the van.

They walk into the emergency room entrance and when Lori veers to the left, Carl is confused.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Go ahead. I'm gonna go get something to eat from the cafeteria. Want anything?"

Carl shakes his head. All he wants right now is to see Rick.

"He's in bed five," Lori says over her shoulder.

Carl nods, walks past the waiting room full of coughing, sweaty people. He follows the sign, takes three lefts and one right, walks past the nursing station and counts the beds until he finds Rick. Rick's obviously been waiting on him, too, because he's sitting up and alert when Carl walks by.

"Hey," Rick croaks. He looks a little rough, like he's in pain, but he's smiling nonetheless.

"Hey," Carl whispers back, rushing to his bedside. He tosses his backpack on the floor against the wall. “Are you okay?”

"I'm fine." He says it again, probably because he knows Carl doesn't believe him. "I'm _fine_."

Carl reaches back, pulls the privacy curtain around the bed, doesn't hesitate to press his mouth to Rick's in a kiss that's way too risky and way too rushed. He pulls back, knows his eyes are still full of worry, because Rick looks at him like they are. "I told you to be safe," he half-laughs, breathless. "I told you to be safe this morning."

"I'm fine," Rick repeats. "I'm safe. Could've been so much worse. The whole way here I was worried about you."

"You were worried about _me_?" he asks, incredulous.

"I know how much you worry, knew you'd freak out as soon as you heard." Rick reaches for Carl's hand, pulls it close, kisses his knuckles. "I love you, baby."

And wow, does that fluster Carl in the best way ever. Rick's never called him that, not even during sex, and it's fucked up how much it makes him tingle all over. Quite frankly, he wants to climb on the bed and pull Rick's hospital gown off.

He's smiling, trying not to, and he knows his face is pink because his ears feel hot. He bites his lip and Rick's smirking at him, and Carl forces himself to chill the fuck out because they're in a hospital and there are people around. He pushes the privacy curtain open again and sits in the stiff chair beside the small ER bed.

"Where's your mom?"

"She said she was gonna grab something from the cafeteria."

Rick hums, rolls his head to the side. "Stop worrying. I'm fine."

"How'd you—?"

Rick gestures with his hand. "You got that wrinkle on your forehead."

Carl reaches up, feels the wrinkle on his forehead between the eyes and tries not to smile. He brushes hair out of his eyes and feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He doesn't even want to check it, isn't tempted to, just wants to be with Rick right now.

"Does your leg hurt?" Carl asks softly, looking over.

Rick shrugs, still grinning. "Can't tell, they gave me the good stuff."

Carl laughs harder than he should. Maybe it's an attempt to brush this whole thing off. Rick getting shot is still scary as hell but he's taking it okay as far as Carl can tell. He hates that he can't pull the chair right next to the bed, can't rest his head on Rick's pillow, can't climb into the cramped hospital bed and curl up against Rick's side. He knows they're lucky enough to have that privacy at home. It's silly to worry about it here.

Lori walks in a moment later with two bottles of water and a chicken salad sandwich that smells so strong Carl's nose scrunches. She hands him a bottle of water that he holds in his lap, and Carl knows that he should give his chair up for Lori so he does, moving to sit on the side of Rick's bed.

Lori unwraps her sandwich, picks at it in a way that annoys Carl to no end. "Any word on what they're gonna do?"

Carl looks to Rick when he walks, resists the urge to reach back and rest his hand on Rick's good leg.

"Probably just clean it," Rick shrugs. "Got an exit wound, don't know why I'd have to stay overnight."

Carl almost says that he'll stay, sleep in Rick's room with him, physically opens his mouth but stops himself before anything comes out.

"You can go," Rick says to Lori. What that translates to in Carl's mind is 'please leave' but Rick's too nice to say anything like that.

Lori shrugs. "I'll stay for a bit."

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._ Carl knows, knows, that Lori is going to want to talk about what happened over the weekend and now that Rick's in the hospital, Lori has a captive audience.

Carl pulls his phone out of his pocket, checks it. Of course there's a text from Sophia asking what's going on. Carl moves to get comfortable, sitting on the floor next to Lori’s chair before he texts back:

**Dad got shot, he's okay tho**

And there's one from his lab partner asking where Carl is.

**Family emergency, should be back tomorrow**

Lori reaches down suddenly, tugging at the collar of Carl's shirt to reveal the dark pink mark Rick left on him yesterday. Carl knows what she's going to ask before the words even come out of her mouth and fuck, he is not prepared to answer that.

"What’s this?"

Carl brushes her hand away, annoyed, because it's really not even any of her business. His eyes flash to Rick, but Rick is in and out of consciousness now. And Carl's response is possibly he stupidest ever. "It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Lori echoes. She looks to her ex-husband. "Rick. Rick. Have you seen this?"

And now Carl is _really_ panicking because Rick isn't too doped up on medicine yet, but the possibility of Rick letting something slip about his more than inappropriate relationship with his teenage son is a very real threat.

Carl scrambles for an excuse, anything to keep Rick from having to make a comment. "Mom—can we talk about this? Outside?"

Lori nods, Carl stands and follows her out to the front of the hospital.

"It was just—it was some kid at a party last night and we—it was nothing, okay? We were just messing around."

"Some kid?" she echoes. She's trying to compose herself; Carl can tell, and he appreciates that. "A girl? A boy?"

"Does it matter?" Carl replies, panicked. "It was a guy, okay? He's a friend of Sophia's. Nothing happened."

Lori takes Carl by the shoulders, moves him away from the front doors of the hospital and sits down beside the fountain. "I'm trying real hard not to slap you right now. Nothing happened, but you have a huge hickey on your neck that you're not even trying to cover up. It was a guy and you were messing around at a party last night? Even though knew you had school in he morning?"

"Yes," he answers, small and weak. His story is such bullshit, but Lori doesn't know that. He'll say anything to keep Rick away from this, to keep him safe. He hopes to God that Rick catches on quickly enough to lie about letting Carl go to a nonexistent party when in reality Carl was curled up with him in bed.

"Honey, are—are you—? Do you like boys?"

"I don't know." That's not a lie; he really has no idea, doesn't know why people have to put labels on things. "Please, it was just a one time thing. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"Were you drinking?"

"No."

Lori pauses for a moment, stares out into the parking lot. She won't look at him when she says, "You're grounded. You can go to and from school and that's it. No more taking lunch trips with Sophia, no more parties.”

"You can't ground me!" Carl snorts. She's literally not even around to make sure he follows any of those rules. "You don't even know me anymore."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Yours!" Carl explodes. He doesn't mean to, but he can't help himself. "You're the one who started sleeping with your husband's best friend!" _And I was there to pick up the pieces._ "I'm seventeen!"

"Seventeen and going to parties on school nights. Where's your dad in all of this? Does he have any control over you whatsoever? Does he not care and just let you do whatever you want?"

"Do not blame what I do on Dad!" he snarls. "Yes, he cares! He cares more than you ever did."

Lori looks at Carl for a long, long time. Her face is stern but her eyes are filled with tears. He knows she wants to cry, and he does feel a little guilty for being so harsh, but it's true. Lori doesn't just get to waltz back in after walking out on him and Rick.

Carl looks down at his shoes and pretends like he doesn't want to cry, too. He hates this, hates the bitterness and resentment he feels for his mother because he loves her. He does. But she doesn't understand where Carl's coming from, she doesn't even try to.

Suddenly, gunshots fill the air nearby and Carl's already on edge and that certainly isn't helping. He reaches for his mom's hand, pulls her up. "We should go inside," he says, rushed, and leads her back to the emergency room where Rick's wound is being bandaged.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The afternoon drags on. Carl's phone dies, but thankfully he has his charger. Lori has spent the entire time alternating between picking at her nails and playing on her phone. Carl's head hurts from not eating and his back hurts from sitting on the hard tile floor.

Carl locks his phone, his hands annoyingly hot from the battery. "Are you going home?"

Lori looks down at him. "As soon as I get you both settled."

"I can handle this," Carl tells her. He's handled harder things, but he knows that she's sticking around because she wants to talk to Rick about the supposed party and the hickey on his neck and probably a hundred other things. "You can take me to the station to get the truck I’ll drive back here. You can go home.”

"I'm not comfortable with that," Lori shakes her head.

Carl sighs. "Mom."

" _Carl_ ," she warns, and that's definitely the don't start with me tone. So Carl gives up on that idea, glances at Rick and hopes he's not in any pain.

* * *

Shortly before 8 o'clock they deliver Rick's discharge papers and prescriptions, and it's getting dark outside and Lori is still here. Well, she's not here because she left to go pull the van around and Carl is tasked with helping Rick change. Not that he minds. Carl gathers his own things, sets them in the chair before walking over to the side of Rick's bed.

Rick sits up, gently throws his legs on the edge of the bed. "Think you can behave yourself?" he jokes. He smiles but his smile is full of pain and exhaustion.

Carl chuckles a little, brushes his hair from his face. "I think I can manage." He unties Rick's gown, lets Rick pull his own shirt on, holds Rick's uniform pants out for Rick to step into. He does so with some difficulty, using Carl's shoulder for balance.

Carl steps away once Rick's clothes are on, resists the urge to touch or kiss him. He wants to badly because Rick just looks so tired.

Soon enough the nurse shows up with a wheelchair, says that they've ordered Rick a pair of crutches but that he probably won't need them for long. Rick moves to the wheel chair, Carl slings his backpack over his shoulder and they head out to Lori’s van.

On the way back to the house Carl rests his head against the back of the seat. For whatever reason this ride back to the house is reminiscent of the road trip they took to Tampa right before Lori filed for divorce. Maybe it’s because the tension is so thick Carl could cut it with a knife if he had one.

He still doesn’t know why Lori is hanging around because he’s perfectly capable of driving, and he can only hope that when he and Rick get home and settled that Lori will go home, too.

Lori says, out of the blue, more to Rick than to Carl, “I think I’m going to stay the night.”

Carl doesn’t really understand why because when he was little, Lori taught him that inviting himself is rude and he shouldn’t ever do it. But now she’s doing it and it’s perfectly fine. “ _Why_?” He watches as she glances at him in the rear-view mirror like he’s a little kid or something.

“I’m not comfortable leaving you to deal with this by yourself.”

The irony is fucking fantastic, because she basically left him to deal with Rick. The phrase ‘dealing with’ is insulting, actually, because it makes it seem like taking care of Rick is a huge burden, which it’s not. It’s a comfort. Carl enjoys taking care of Rick as much as Rick enjoys taking care of him. Dysfunctional, intimate relationship aside, Carl would still take care of Rick no matter what.

Carl glances at his dad. He’s not sure if he’s asleep or faking at this point. Either way, Carl responds, “I _deal with this_ by myself all the time. I get that you want to help and you probably feel guilty about a lot of stuff, but please don’t act like me taking care of Dad is a burden. It’s what you do when you love someone. It’s called being a family.” He knows his mother well enough to know that what he’s said hurts her. He means for it to.

After a short minute of silence, Lori says, monotone, “I’ll drop you two at home and go get the prescriptions filled.”

Carl doesn’t say anything, keeps his thoughts to himself, wonders how tonight will be. Obviously, he and Rick won’t be able to sleep in the same bed. He wonders what Shane will think of Lori spending the night in her old house with her ex-husband. Then Carl remembers that Lori is pregnant and his mouth suddenly gets very, very dry and he doesn’t want to think about that anymore.

* * *

They pull into the driveway and Lori takes Carl’s keys to unlock the front door. Carl hops out, opens the driver door to see Rick is awake.

“We’re home,” he murmurs softly.

Rick doesn’t say anything, just wriggles out of the front seat and uses Carl’s shoulders for support as they walk slowly and carefully into the house. Carl gets him settled on the bed, still unmade from this morning, resists the urge to kiss him because Rick just looks so tired.

Lori’s just coming out of the bathroom, pokes her head in the door. “I’m staying over,” Lori informs him. “I’m going to get your prescriptions filled and pick some things up for the night. Y’all need anything?”

“Whiskey,” Rick answers comically, stretching out on the bed.

Lori walks away without responding, leaves the house a few moments later. Carl’s still in the room with Rick, sits on the edge of the bed. “I don’t want her to say,” he discloses.

“I know.” Rick reaches for his hand, interlaces their fingers.

“I don’t _need—_ ”

Rick kisses the back of his hand, cuts him off, “I know you’re capable of taking care of everything on your own. Always were. It’s alright to get help sometimes.”

Carl nods, hesitates, and then stretches out next to Rick, head on Rick’s chest. “This okay?”

Rick starts to play with his hair. “’Course,” he whispers.

Rick sounds like he’s hurting, and Carl’s hurting, too, but not in that way. He’s worried about Lori finding out about their relationship. He supposes that if he’s so worried, he shouldn’t be curled up with his head on Rick’s chest right now, but he can’t help himself. He needs it. Judging by the fact that Rick keeps kissing the top of his head, Rick needs it too.

“I know she wants to talk about everything,” Carl starts. “I don’t want to. I don’t know if I can. I think about it and I get so angry.”

Rick brushes the fingers over the hickey on Carl’s neck. “She asked about this.”

”I lied,” Carl responds. Obviously. “I said I got it from a boy at a party so if she asks...”

“Yeah.”

Rick sounds conflicted and Carl can understand why, but he also can’t. They’re happy, right? They’re happy. Rick wants this. Rick loves him. Right now his leg just hurts.

Carl has to check, though. He leans up and kisses Rick’s soft, dry mouth, and Rick doesn’t hesitate to kiss back. It’s tender and slow and Carl sighs through his nose before he pulls away.

“I should get up,” Carl says. Rick hums in agreement, but grabs Carl’s hand and pulls him into another kiss before letting him pull away for good.

They’re happy, Carl decides. Rick wants this, Rick loves him. Right now his leg just hurts.

* * *

Rick manages to change into a pair of pajama pants by himself as Carl tries to erase any sign of a relationship aside from their father-son one. And by that he means that he grabs all of his dirty clothes from Rick’s bathroom, takes his toothbrush, takes his phone charger from beside the bed, grabs his shoes from beside the dresser and dumps them all into his room. His room that hasn’t been slept in in months. He supposes he should stage that, too.

He throws his dirty clothes into the corner, plugs his phone charger in beside the bed, strips the bed and remakes it with fresh linens because Lori is probably going to sleep in here. His stomach growls and that reminds him that he hasn't eaten in about 8 hours and he calls Lori to ask if she'll bring food home. Of course she will.

* * *

Thankfully, Lori doesn’t start any upsetting conversations before bed. Maybe she knows better. Maybe Rick asked her not to. Maybe she’s just exhausted.

It's nearing midnight and Carl's still tired but he's running on adrenaline at this point, he guesses. He's had his shower, done his homework, made the couch into his bed for the night, cleaned up the takeout containers. He's going to try and sleep, but figures he should go check on Rick before he does.

Carl opens the door slowly. If Rick is asleep, Carl doesn't want to wake him.

"I'm awake," Rick says softly.

"Just checking on you. You okay?"

"Yeah. You going to bed?"

Carl's hand is still on the doorknob. He twists back and forth it absently. "Gonna try."

"Your mom asleep?"

"Yeah," Carl whispers, “I'm on the couch for the night. Don't wanna be."

Rick looks at him from across the dark room. "I know."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Carl closes the door, thinks it's stupid that he's sad about not being able to sleep next to Rick. It's one night. Honestly. He makes his way to the living room, flips on the TV because it's too quiet without it. It's still turned to the news channel, and the story they're covering live is from downtown, two blocks over from the hospital Rick was in earlier. Carl turns the volume up, watches the footage of a man is shot multiple times, undying. Round after round after round. Even then, the man falls to his knees and stumbles back up. Carl is sure those are the shots he and Lori heard when they were outside by the fountain.

And then the reporter is on location and the hospital emergency room, full of more sick, sweaty people than before. The ER is overflowing. There are people lining the entrance on the outside, too. They say they don't know if it's related to the shooting, but Carl has a feeling it is. He has a feeling that something is very, very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! so it wasn't a month between updates this time. i'm hoping, fingers crossed, that i can have this finished by the time i leave for the walker stalker cruise mid-january.


	5. Chapter 5

Carl tosses and turns late into the night. Lori turns off the TV at some point because when he wakes, the house is quiet aside from the sound of frying bacon. He doesn't know why, but the idea of Lori cooking their groceries in their kitchen gets to him, regardless of how good it smells. He sits up, stretches, and wanders into the kitchen.

Lori's still in her cheap, matronly nightgown she bought at Walmart last night. She turns to give him a fleeting smile. "Hey. Hungry?"

Carl nods, takes a piece of bacon from one of the plates and pops it into his mouth. "One of these for Dad?"

Lori nods and Carl snatches it without further explanation. He walks down the hall and into Rick's bedroom, pushing the door open slowly.

Rick's sitting up in bed, reading glasses on, and he drops the book he's reading on the empty side of the bed. Carl’s empty side of the bed. "Mornin'."

Carl grins, bright and cheeky. "I brought breakfast," he says, coming in and sitting on the edge of the bed. Rick takes the plate, sets it in his lap and tries to kiss Carl’s cheek. Thankfully, Carl remembers that Lori's here and leans away from it.

Rick realizes why, makes a soft humming sound. Instead, he reaches out and brushes Carl's hair from his eyes. "You sleep okay?"

"Not really," Carl admits. He resists the urge to lean into Rick's touch. "I was watching the news before bed. There was this guy and the police just kept shooting him and they didn't stop. The guy just kept coming towards them. It was really weird."

Rick takes a bite of bacon, chews thoughtfully. Carl snatches a piece and does the same.

"Coffee?" Rick asks after a moment of chewing.

"I'll go make some."

Carl leaves, goes back into the kitchen to where Lori is seated at the table. He sets the coffee pot, making enough for both him and Rick. Since Lori is pregnant, she won't be partaking.

"Aren't you gonna eat?" Lori asks.

"Yeah." Carl reaches for his plate and starts back to Rick's room.

"Where are you going?"

He pauses, turning towards her. "I'm gonna eat with Dad."

"You don't have to keep running away," she says quietly.

Carl doesn't really know what she's talking about. "I'm not. I just wanna eat in there."

"Fine. Go."

"Mom—"

"Go."

And now Carl feels guilty, and that's probably what Lori meant to do. He mutters a quiet "sorry" and slinks down the hall. "Coffee's making," he says, sitting down by Rick's feet, "but I'm pretty sure Mom hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," Rick assures. "You just—you need to try."

Carl opens his mouth to say that he is trying, but he's not, and that would just be a lie. "I know. How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You're so mature about all of this," Carl explains, taking a bite of eggs. "Your ex-wife is in your house making breakfast for you in your kitchen and you're okay with it."

Rick pauses thoughtfully. "I'm not doing it for me. I'm doing it for you."

Carl's heart melts for reasons it shouldn't. Rick is his father first and foremost, and he's doing what any decent father should do. Rick's sacrifice of sorts has nothing to due with their intimate relationship.

"You need a relationship with your mother. I can't be everything for you."

And Carl know Rick's not saying that to be mean or to push him away. He's only saying what he knows is best. But the fact is, Rick is everything for Carl: father, best friend, lover. Carl knows it's dangerous and risky but he doesn't care and he isn't going to start changing things now. He takes another bite of eggs. "I'll try harder. How's your leg?"

"Not too bad. I should be up in a few days, I'd think."

Carl nods and continues to pick at his plate. With a glance at the alarm clock, he decides he should probably get ready for school soon. He finishes the rest of his food, takes his and Rick's plates into the kitchen and sets them in the sink. Lori is still sitting at the table. "Thanks for cooking," he says softly.

Lori smiles at him but it's not genuine. "You're welcome."

He shifts on his feet. "Is everything okay?"

"It's fine," she assures him.

Carl knows it's not. It's obvious by Lori's tone that it's definitely not, but he doesn't push it. He doesn't want to make a big deal about it. He pours himself a cup of coffee, makes one for Rick and takes it to him, but ultimately comes back in the kitchen to drink his at the table.

Lori has started to clean up the breakfast dishes. The clinking of them is interrupted by her quiet voice. "Do you want to stay home from school?"

"Why?" Carl asks.

"I want to get y'all settled with groceries and everything before I go home. I'm not gonna leave you to do that on your own, and I know you're probably tired from yesterday."

That's actually pretty thoughtful, Carl has to admit, and he definitely appreciates a gesture. "Yeah, that sounds good. I'll go get dressed."

* * *

When they get to the grocery store, it's packed. Carl takes half the list and Lori the other, and they split separate ways to get it done in half the time. Carl takes notice of the cops placed sporadically throughout the store, notices that the shelves are clear of most non-perishables. Thankfully they aren't in need of many of those, though, and he meets Lori by the registers and dumps his armful of items into the cart.

"We good?"

"We're good."

* * *

They get the groceries home and put away. Unfortunately Rick is napping, so Carl stretches out on the couch in front of the TV. The news is still on from several nights ago and Carl doesn't bother to change it. They're still covering the story of the man who was shot multiple times, the emergency rooms full of sick people, and breaking news of riots in downtown Atlanta.

"That's why the store was crowded," Lori comments.

"Yeah." There's a sinking feeling in Carl's gut but he tries not to worry about it; things like this have happened before, and everything turned out just fine. What he worries about now is Rick and how Rick's feeling and how he wishes he could be in bed napping with Rick. But he's not. He's in the living room with Lori and the stories on the TV won't leave him alone. "Has Shane mentioned anything about this?" Carl asks, gesturing to the TV.

"No," Lori answers, distracted.

Carl watches for a few moments more and reaches for the remote, muting the volume. He knows they need to talk about this and judging by the stories on the news, sooner is better than later. "Mom?"

"Hm?"

He looks down at his lap. "I'm sorry about how I acted over the weekend. It's just... hard. Really hard."

She reaches over, runs her fingers through his hair. "I know," she says softly. "I know the past year's been hard on you. I tried to give you space and let you come to me. When you did, I screwed it up. I should have told you right away about the baby."

"Yeah, you should have. I feel kind of betrayed, I guess?" he shrugs. "Like, you just gave up and left me. Now you get to start over with a new kid."

"Honey, no," Lori whispers. "That's not what— didn't plan this, I didn't give up on you. I'm right here."

Carl takes a moment to compose himself. He kind of wants to cry. The thought makes his throat close up and his heart pound with anxiety because there's so much pain. For the longest time, he thought he was over it like Rick is. But it's different because Rick was in love with Lori and now he's not. Carl still loves his mother and her leaving is the biggest form of rejection someone can experience.

He takes a deep, shaking breath. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Lori nods and reaches over, hugging his shoulders. Carl lets her, puts his hand on her arm just briefly. "Will you be okay if I go home?"

Carl nods, standing up and pulling away. "I'm gonna go check on Dad."

The bedroom door is open a crack and when Carl pushes it further, he's relieved to see Rick is awake.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

Carl shakes his head, walks in and sits on the edge of the bed. "Mom let me stay home," he says, his voice still uneven. "We went and got groceries."

Rick studies his face for a long moment. "Everything okay?"

"Not really," Carl whispers. "I apologized to her about this weekend. I started thinking about how she left and everything and it just—it hurts really bad, um." And now Carl's nose is running and Rick will know that he's trying not to cry and Carl knowing that Rick knows he’s upset does make him cry.

Rick takes Carl's hand with his own, reaches up with the other one to wipe his tears. "You did the right thing. I'm proud of you." He pulls Carl into a hug and Carl fights the urge to lie down beside him. He feels Rick's soft mouth against his neck just for a moment before he sits up.

"I know it's the right thing," he admits, "but the right thing isn't always easy, you know?"

Rick looks at him sympathetically, strokes his thumb over the back of Carl's hand. "I know."

"Hey," Lori says suddenly from the doorway.

Carl jumps, pulls his hand away way too quickly for it to look casual. He's upset and it's okay for Rick to be comforting him. If they're not doing anything inappropriate, he definitely shouldn't have reacted that way. He could’ve just fucked everything up because he's not sure how long Lori's been standing there.

"I'm gonna head out. Rick, you need anything before I go?"

"No, I'm good."

So she didn't see Rick wipe his tears or kiss his neck and Carl lets out a long sigh. He's still shaking all over, and this incident didn't help. Fucking anxiety.

"I'll walk you outside," Carl says, getting off the bed and following Lori out to the van. He opens the door for her as she climbs in, and then reaches in to hug her. It hurts, but he wants to forgive her, even though forgiving is harder than being pissed off. "Bye. I love you."

Lori's probably a little stunned because she hesitates, and then hugs Carl tightly, kissing his hair. "I love you too. Take care of your dad."

He pulls back and closes the van door. "I will." He pauses. "Tell Shane I said hi. Drive safe."

"I will."

Lori waves once after she backs out of the driveway. Carl watches her drive down the street until her van is no longer visible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapters in, like, 4 days. !!! so obviously the zpoc is apparent but it won't be the main focus. also for the record i don't hate absolutely lori so i hope it doesn't come across like i do.
> 
> thoughts? opinions? suggestions? :) 
> 
> thanks for reading ♥♥♥


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm super sorry this took me almost a month to update (again). :( i was really on a roll with writing and i wanted to have this fic done before i leave on the walker stalker cruise, but then the guest list changed mid-december. i was (and still am) extremely upset and could mostly only write sad things. i'm rambling. but anyways, i'll be posting a few drabbles, a new fic, and maybe one more chapter to this fic before i head out on thursday.

Wednesday morning, Carl wakes to the obnoxious sound of his phone alarm. He reaches for it blindly, not wanting to wake Rick, but when Carl hits the disable button, he opens his eyes to see that Rick's already up.

"Hey, sleeping beauty."

Carl stretches up, giving Rick a quick peck on the lips and ignoring his comment. He glances down at the iPad in Rick's arms to see that he's watching news videos.

"Did this just happen?" Rick asks.

He sits up, resting his head on Rick's shoulder. "Yeah, the past couple days. Guess you were kinda out of it. You think it's anything to be worried about?"

"Whenever people get worked up like this, there's always somethin' to worry about." Rick locks the iPad and sets it on his bedside table, pulling Carl into his arms. Carl snuggles against him, forehead pressed against Rick's cheek. He closes his eyes and relishes the moment.

They're too close, too wrapped up in each other. Carl knows that. He knows that father/son relationship aside, the amount of need he feels to be with Rick constantly isn't healthy. But Rick seems to feel the same way, so Carl doesn't really worry about it. He presses his body against Rick's side, practically clinging to him, still trying to fulfill the dull ache of the past few days. Yeah, they were able to sleep in the same bed with Lori gone, but the lack of physical affection the past 48 hours is driving Carl insane, which gives him an idea. He knows that Rick's probably not in the best physical shape, but that doesn't stop him from trailing his hand down Rick's torso to rub his cock through his thin pajama pants.

Rick reaches down, grabbing his wrist. "No," he says, half-laughing.

"C'mon," Carl whines. "I'll ride you, you won't even have to move."

Rick interlaces their fingers, turning his head to kiss Carl's cheek. "No, you gotta get ready for school."

"Please."

"No."

" _Please_. I don't wanna go to school. _Please_."

Rick sighs, and it's the type of sigh that Carl knows to be serious. He drops the whining but remains settled against his father's side, though deep down he's still upset. Other thoughts race through his mind: the gun shots outside the hospital, the crowds in the waiting room, the flurry of people at the grocery store, Lori being pregnant, Lori being over an hour away. Carl's face must reflect his thoughts, because Rick is stroking the back of his hand now.

"Hey," Rick murmurs. "You've gotta understand that I still have to be your dad sometimes. You can't just bat your eyelashes at me and expect me to get it up every time."

Carl knows Rick is trying to be funny, trying to lighten the mood, but he's not entirely upset because Rick won't fuck him. He's also upset because he has a nagging gut feeling that everything is about to go terribly wrong and they're just lying in bed. "It's not just that," he admits, pulling out of Rick's embrace. Only it is. "I'm worried about the stuff on the news. It's not—it's not just happening here—"

"I know."

"I just... I think maybe we shouldn't have let Mom leave. Or we should've gone with her." Rick tries to run his fingers through Carl's hair. Usually it helps, but Carl's still on edge, and he doesn't really want Rick to touch him at all right now. "I'm scared. Maybe we should leave."

"Did your mom put these ideas in your head?"

"No. I'm telling you I think we should go stay with Mom in case something worse happens." Carl sits up, reaching for his phone. He has texts from Sophia saying that she's not going to school because her mom won't let her. Carl holds up his phone for Rick to see. "It's not just me, Dad. Other people are worried, too."

Rick is quiet for a long moment. Carl knows that Rick thinks the world of Carol, respects her for what she's done for herself and Sophia, getting out of her abusive relationship, picking up the pieces and moving on. Maybe Rick will listen.

"Alright, stay home. We'll figure this out, okay?" He reaches out, running a hand over Carl's hair. Carl leans away from it. "Go make breakfast and call your mom, see what she and Shane are doin'."

"You really wanna be around Shane?"

"No, but we might not have a choice. Try not to worry. And make coffee."

Carl nods before he takes his phone and heads into the kitchen.

* * *

Not even 10 minutes into starting breakfast, Rick calls, "Carl!"

Carl jumps, turning off the stove before he rushes to the bedroom. He finds Rick standing, hobbled, with one hand resting on the dresser, headed back from the bathroom. He sighs, heavy and annoyed. "Use your crutches," he insists. "That's what they're for."

Rick gives Carl a look—the look—and Carl gives him that same look right back. "I'm fine."

"Use your crutches, _Daddy_."

Rick looks at him real sharp then, eyebrows raised, not even smiling. "Don't call me that out of context."

Carl rolls his eyes but crosses the bedroom anyway. He loops his arm around his dad's waist, helping him over to the bed. Had Rick just used the crutches like he's supposed to, Carl wouldn't have had to rush in here. "Can I finish cooking?"

"After you bring me my phone."

Carl does, trying not to be annoyed at Rick for not obeying his doctor's orders and for being so demanding.

Back in the kitchen, Carl turns on the stove and continues making their omelettes. As he flips them, he lets his mind wander. What if this virus changes everything? What if it's the end of the world? What if it's like the H1N1 virus, or the Ebola outbreak, and it all blows over within a matter of weeks. Carl hopes for the latter of the two.

He finishes cooking and plates their food up, pours their coffee and manages to carry everything back into the bedroom without spilling anything. When he walks in, Rick is just getting off the phone.

"Who was that?" he asks, setting the plates on the bed and the mugs of coffee on Rick's nightstand.

"Carol. She thinks that the best thing would be to go into the city. They have safe zones set up."

"Downtown?" he echoes in disbelief. "Where the riots are happening? Um, no. Did you call Mom?"

"You were supposed to call her."

"I was cooking," Carl replies, exasperated. Honestly, sometimes Rick makes him so angry. He expects Carl to do more than his fair share of cooking and cleaning, and maybe Rick has a legitimate excuse right now, but that doesn't make Carl feel any better. "You have the phone right there. It's not that hard." Rick opens his mouth to say something, but Carl cuts him off. "You call her. Since I'm trying, you need to try, too. Co-parent for once.”

Rick looks at him quizzically. “Why are you attacking me?”

“I’m not attacking you,” Carl snaps. He doesn’t mean to; he’s just stressed out and tired and he’s still being pissy about what Rick said earlier. Rick reaches for Carl’s hand, but Carl yanks it away.

“Hey,” Rick says defensively. “What’s goin’ on? You were fine last night. Are you upset I told you no to sex? Is that what this is about?”

Carl hesitates, looking away before muttering, “No.” It’s a lie, and Rick sees right through it.

“Carl.”

”What?”

“You’re acting like your mother. Tell me what’s wrong, why you’re upset. Don’t lie and say you’re not, ‘cause you are, and it’s obvious. Why are you mad at me? Is it because I told you no?”

“Yes!” Carl admits. Suddenly he feels so small, but his voice raises more than he means for it to. And he's upset for other reasons, but this one is the easiest for him to fixate on. “I never ask for sex! It always just happens. We start kissing or whatever and then we end up fucking. The one time I actually ask you say no and tell me that I can’t just expect you to ‘get it up’ because I ‘bat my eyelashes at you’. What the fuck do you mean _bat my eyelashes_ anyway? God, Dad. Really?”

“So you’re lying to me now?”

He stares at Rick, mouth agape. “ _What_?”

”You said that’s not what you’re mad about but it is. Now you’re actin’ indignant ‘cause I called you out on lying.”

Carl throws his hands up. “I can’t win! I do all this shit for you, cleaning, cooking, and the one time I ask you for something you tell me no! That’s bullshit.”

“You do those things because you want to!” Rick shouts back. Carl shrinks a little; he hates it when Rick yells. It’s terrifying. “No one ever asked you to do those things! You choose to do them!"

Carl's shaking he's so angry, his heart rate elevated, pulse pounding in his ears. Fucking anxiety. "You just told me to make you breakfast!"

Rick scoffs. "Well, I can't exactly get up and cook for myself right this second. Y'know what? Just—just go. Get out."

Carl is shocked at the sting of Rick's last words. He has a lump in his throat, tears in his eyes and he fights to keep them held back as he grabs his clothes from last night and his phone charger. If Rick feels bad for saying any of those things, he doesn't admit it. He watches Carl in silence. Carl doesn't even bother to take his omelette with him. He doesn't feel like eating anymore anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are motivating and much appreciated! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i finally feel like things are picking up with this fic. ♥ 
> 
> comments and kudos are much appreciated! :)
> 
> i'm about to get on a big ass boat. bye, y'all ♥

Carl goes to lie down in his own room because needs to think over what exactly the fuck just happened with Rick. Maybe he’s being unfair in saying that he does everything for Rick, but he doesn't feel like it’s unfair. He feels justified in saying that he never asks Rick for anything (which he doesn't, thanks) and to have Rick yell at him like that was totally uncalled for. Instead, he thinks of the stories on the news, wondering if he and Rick are wasting time being mad at each other instead of getting the hell out of dodge.

Some minutes later, his phone rings and it's Lori. He wants to pick it up but he doesn't trust his voice enough to have a conversation with her. Not until he calms down at least a little bit from the fight with Rick. Lori leaves a voicemail and sends a text. Carl sniffles and takes a deep breath before calling back.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mom."

"Hi, honey, where's your dad? He's not picking up."

Carl wipes at his eyes, balancing his phone on the side of his face. Rick’s not picking up because he’s too busy being a fucking asshole. "He's awake."

"Are you at school?"

"I stayed home," Carl admits. He braces himself for her outburst. Lori hates it when he misses school. At least, she used to.

"Do you know what's going on?"

"No, um, just that people are going into the city for some sort of safe zones. The news doesn't really say what or why, just that people are panicking about some virus. As far as I know it's been quiet here. We've been home all night and this morning, so. What about you?"

"Shane seems to think the thing to do is head out of the city. Highways are packed, though. What's your dad have to say?"

Carl's voice drops a little. He doesn't even want to think about what Rick is gonna say. "I don't know. I haven't asked him. Sophia's mom said they're gonna head into Atlanta. I don't know why. All those people in that small of an area doesn't seem very safe."

"We need to go together. Talk to your dad and call back, okay? I'm gonna go pack some things."

"'Kay. Mom?"

"What?"

"I love you."

"I love you too. Bye, sweetie."

Carl hangs up, setting his phone beside his pillow. He doesn't even want to look at Rick, much less talk to him about anything.

He hears the clinking of breakfast dishes; Rick must be washing them. Carl is partially worried that Rick isn't supposed to be up and walking, but he doesn't care. Not right now anyway. He doesn't want to see Rick for a long, long time. And since Rick wants to be an asshole about Carl choosing to do the housework, he's now choosing not to, and Rick can't get upset at him for that.

He doesn't know how long he lies in bed for but it's long enough for Rick to come looking for him. He hears the clacking of the crutches against the wood floors followed by the squeaking of the bedroom door.

"Hey," Rick tries. Carl looks at Rick, expecting an apology. He's not so lucky. "What'd your mom say?"

"A lot of stuff." Carl gets up and out of bed, deciding that taking a shower would be a surefire way for Rick to leave him alone. Rick leans his crutches against the wall, waiting for Carl to continue. "Mom wants us to go out of the city," Carl explains. "Shane said that everyone else is headed into Atlanta. Traffic's bad on the highways but if we leave now—"

"We're not leavin'," Rick decides without much thought. "We can stay here till the highways clear, then we'll head out. If we try to leave now we'll get stuck in that mess."

Is Rick serious right now? Carl doesn't know if it's the pain meds or the stress of the last few days, but he's definitely not being the same gentle, level-headed Rick Carl fell for. Trying to reason with him is proving nearly impossible. "Dad, we need to leave."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Then I'll go to Mom's by myself!"

"You're not going alone! Look, you can still be pissed at me, but you're just gonna have to be pissed at home. We're not leavin' yet."

"I wanna go with Mom and Shane. Shane's plan is more logical."

"You're staying here," Rick decides.

"I'm not staying here with you!"

"You're acting like a child!"

"I _am_ a child!" Carl hisses. Time seems to freeze then, Carl staring at his father and Rick scrubbing a hand over his face. It doesn't need to be said that maybe the fact that Carl being a child is the problem. 'Child' isn't really a fair statement; he's almost 18. But technically, he's still a child. "You need to let Shane call the shots. You can barely walk and judging by the way you yelled at me this morning, you aren't in your right mind either."

"So now you're siding with the man your mother abandoned you for because you're mad I wouldn't—"

"Don't even say it," Carl cuts in. That's a really low fucking blow. He knows what Rick's gonna say; he doesn't need to hear any more. "I'm siding with Shane because you're too worried about me being mad at you to make a decision about anyone's safety. And for the record, I'm pissed because you keep _yelling at me_!"

Rick takes several long strides that must be excruciating without crutches. He gets close to Carl, backs him against the wall, and at first Carl thinks Rick is going to kiss him. That would be nice, but Rick's plans are very, very different. He slams his hand against the wall right beside Carl’s head; Carl feels the wall vibrate with the force. "It ever occur to you I don't like being yelled at either?!"

Carl really, _really_ doesn't understand why Rick feels the need to scream in his face, or hit the wall. He knows Rick has a temper, but he's never seen it this up close and personal. Frankly, it scares him. It hurts him and he doesn't understand and he desperately wants to. He looks up at Rick, eyes glassy with unshed tears. He moves away without a word, going to get clean clothes from his dresser and rushing into the bathroom.

He locks the door, tossing his clothes onto the counter and turning the water on. As soon as the stream comes out of the shower head, Carl lets the tears fall. He doesn't understand why all these things are happening: Rick getting shot, Lori being pregnant, Rick being unfair, Rick yelling, Rick _backing him into a fucking wall._

He peels his pajamas off his body and steps into the shower, sitting down in the tub and letting the warm water flow over him. He's not sure at what point he starts actually sobbing, but he does, and he puts his mouth against his arm in attempt to muffle his cries. Rick can probably still hear him anyway. He doesn't worry about it too much.

There's a soft knock on the door. "Carl."

Carl can't pretend not to be crying. He knows he can't respond without his voice cracking or wavering so he doesn't. He just lets Rick stand there until he walks away a short while later.

Carl stands up, quickly showering and washing his hair before turning the water off. He steps out, slowly towel drying his hair and the rest of his body. He's not crying anymore but his eyes are puffy and his head hurts and he feels like shit. When he slips on fresh clothes and looks in the mirror, he _looks_ like shit.

He walks back to his room quietly, deciding _fuck Rick_ (only not like that); he's leaving no matter what. He goes into his closet, pulling out the red duffel bag and setting it on his bed. As he begins to pack whatever clean clothes he can find, the stupid fight just plays over and over in his head.

The stupid clinking sound of fucking crutches against hardwood floors interrupts what’s probably the 30th replay and then Rick is standing in the doorway. "Hey."

Carl doesn't mean for it to come out, and he definitely doesn't mean for it to come out in a snarl: " _What_?"

Rick offers no explanation for his actions, no apology, no promises of never doing it again, simply says, "I called your mom. We're meetin' up with her and Shane in a couple hours. Get your things together."

Carl rolls his eyes because he's _already_ getting his things packed; he's leaving whether or not that's what Rick wants to do. He's afraid of what'll come out of his mouth if he opens it so he doesn't, just turns his back to Rick and continues to pack.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back! i've actually been back for almost 3 weeks and i have no excuse for not updating other than i've been recuperating. thanks to everyone who left a comment on the last chapter! sorry i haven't responded. that said, enjoy this rick/carl trash fest ♥

Carl's almost done packing. He just has a few more things to put into his bag. The house is quiet and he briefly wonders how Rick is doing with his packing, but then he remembers he doesn't really care. He doesn't know what to think or why Rick is acting the way he is; it's out of nowhere, really.

At some point Carl starts blaming himself. If he hadn't asked for sex, hadn't let the whole thing blow up into a stupid fight, he wouldn't feel so terrible. As it is now, his stomach hurts with the stress of what's happening. He almost wants to go to Rick to tell him, but doing so could lead to an even bigger fight and he’s had enough fighting for now.

As he gathers up his electronics and their chargers, he hears the front door open and close twice. And then the clacking of crutches against wood floors. The sound is getting louder and Carl knows the inevitable is coming.

Rick taps twice on Carl's bedroom door and pushes it open with a crutch. "Carl?"

"What?" Carl spits. He isn't going to give Rick fair treatment when Rick didn't give him any earlier.

But apparently Rick doesn't take the tone of Carl's voice as an unwelcome because Rick limps into his room, propping his crutches against the wall. "Can I talk to you?"

Carl zips up his bag and walks to his bookshelf, looking to see if there are any books he wants take with him. (There aren't; it's mostly just for show.) "Talk about what?" he asks, feigning ignorance. But Carl knows exactly what Rick wants to talk about. He also knows he shouldn't be acting this way but the child in him can't stop.

Rick sighs, leaning against Carl's dresser. "I was an asshole. I shouldn't have done what I did." He takes a deep breath and looks at Carl, bright blue eyes desperate for forgiveness. "Please?"

"Please what?" Carl spits. Is he being unfair? He doesn't think so. At least he isn't pushing Rick against the wall and yelling in his face. "What do you want me to say, Dad, really? What makes you think it's okay to back me into the fucking wall and yell at me?"

Rick shakes his head. "Nothing. I was outta line. I get that." He stops and sighs, running his fingers through his curls. "The stress of having your mom here—"

"No," Carl cuts in. "Mom has nothing to do with this! Don't fucking lie, you were fine until I asked you to fuck me and then suddenly you don't—"

"Are we still really fighting about sex?"

"No! I do so much shit for you and just because you don't ask me to doesn't mean I don't deserve a thank you! I get that you can't exactly help me around the house right now, but the least you could do is at least try and thank me! Verbally, with sex—I don't care how. Just don't act like a narcissistic asshole about it." Carl stops, waiting to see if Rick wants to say anything. When he doesn't, Carl is a little astounded, but he keeps going. "You were screaming in my face. You hit the wall and—" He stops again, finally breaking eye contact. "You basically cornered me." He isn't looking but he feels Rick's gaze on him for a long time.

Finally, Rick asks, "Did you think I was gonna hurt you?"

"I don't know," Carl admits. He really doesn't. He's pretty sure Rick would never hurt him, but in that exact moment he saw it going either way.

Rick's voice softens dramatically. "You know I'd never hurt you, right?"

"Obviously not," Carl shrugs, mumbling. "I never thought you'd back me into a wall and yell at me like you did."

Rick nods and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I saw the way you looked at me right after—I should've apologized then, Carl, I'm sorry."

Carl nods and if he thinks about it too much, he's going to start crying again. He really doesn't want to cry, especially in front of Rick.

Rick limps forward and Carl doesn't move. When Rick wraps his arms around Carl, Carl just lets him. And then Carl rests his head on Rick's shoulder and closes his eyes and presses his nose into the crook of Rick's neck. He feels tears in his eyes and does his best to blink them away, hoping that Rick won't notice. If he does, he doesn't mention it. He feels Rick kiss his hair.

"I love you so much," Rick murmurs.

"I love you, too, which is why I would never do any of those things to you." Carl takes a deep breath and sighs. He doesn't want this to blow up into a huge argument, too. "I feel like it's unfair of you to say no to me when I never ask you for anything. I do a lot for you and for you get pissed and tell me no to sex is—"

Rick pries him away gently, holding him at an arm's length. "I know. It was a shitty thing to do. I'm sorry."

Carl still isn't all that convinced that Rick is sorry. Maybe Rick is sorry for scaring Carl and shoving him against a wall, but he isn't sorry for acting like an asshole about the housework thing. But then Carl remembers what's going on, and housework may not even matter in a month or two. "Okay," he breathes, nodding.

Rick pulls him close again, kissing his forehead. He has to admit that part of him hates being short enough for Rick to kiss his forehead with such ease.

"You sure you wanna meet up with your mom and Shane? Few days ago you couldn't stand bein' around either of them."

Carl's not sure, but he thinks so. If things are gonna go as badly as he thinks they are, he wants to have both his parents around. Even though he and Rick will have to distance themselves a bit, he's sure they can handle that. "I'm sure"

Rick hesitates like he wants to protest, but Carl gives him a look and Rick nods. "Get the rest of your stuff together so we can go."

"Do you need help with yours?" Carl asks.

Rick looks at Carl, straight-faced. "I didn't ask for your help."

Carl stares at him for maybe two seconds with a gaping mouth and wide eyes, but then Rick breaks into a smile. "God, I hate you," Carl groans.

Rick laughs, way too amused at himself, and reaches out to pull Carl into his arms. "You love me."

Carl pacifies Rick with a quick kiss on the mouth before pulling away completely. "It's too soon to joke about it," he says seriously.

"But I'm not joking. I do love you."

"Dad, oh my god. Stop. Those meds are making you insane, I swear."

Rick chuckles and he's way too fucking amused at himself. "Hold on."

"What?" Carl asks, exasperated.

Rick catches Carl by the elbow and pulls him close. Carl knows that Rick is definitely actually going to kiss him this time, and when Rick does it's such a comfort. The way Rick's mouth moves against his own eases the wrinkle between Carl's brows.

"Go," Carl tells him when he pulls back, though he's smiling. "Leave so I can finish packing."

“Alright.” Rick grabs his crutches from where they rest against the wall and hobbles out of Carl’s room. Carl watches him go for a second before turning back to his duffle bag.

* * *

By three o’clock everything is loaded up in the truck. At Rick’s insistence, they have a few boxes of nonperishable food items and the old tent they used to take on camping trips. ‘You never know’ Rick had said when he asked Carl to put it in the truck. Carl has a feeling Rick may know, and he thinks he may know, too.

Carl calls Lori and tells him they’re heading out. and Lori says for them to meet her and Shane at the rest stop on I-75. Carl briefly checks his phone and the trip that would usually take 48 minutes is going to take closer to 4 hours, but Lori says she and Shane will wait.

* * *

Carl's driving and Rick's navigating, though Rick's idea of navigating is more like glancing at the phone every thirty minutes to see if the traffic is going to clear up any time soon. News flash: it's not. It's actually getting worse. They've gone 10 miles in 3 hours. It's fucking hell, and maybe they should've just stayed home and waited for the roads to clear like Rick said.

Carl's foot is tired from going in between the brake and the gas. He glances over at Rick before resting his head back against the seat. "How's your leg?"

Rick shrugs. "Hurts."

Carl hesitates, and then sighs, looking at the sea of tail lights in front of him. "You were right. We should've just stayed home. We aren't getting anywhere."

"You can turn around," Rick says, glancing in the rear view mirror.

"Mom and Shane are waiting."

Rick lets out a long dramatic sigh, reaching for Carl's phone. He only hears one side of the conversation: "Hey... yeah, we left, traffic's just god awful... I don't know... no, Carl's drivin'... look, you two go ahead, we'll catch up... it'll be fine." Then Rick hands Carl the phone.

"Hey," Carl says.

"Y'all okay? Your dad doesn't sound great."

"He says his leg hurts. I don't think sitting in the truck for this long is gonna help anything. We're gonna turn back."

"I wish you wouldn't," Lori says, voice shaky. "I don't think that’s a good idea."

"Mom, we aren't getting anywhere! If you guys can come here then—"

"No, no—I'll tell Shane we're going ahead. Keep your phone charged, okay?"

"I always do."

"Alright. I'll call you back in a bit."

"Bye." Carl hangs up, handing the phone to Rick. He glances in the mirror, pulling onto the grass median and hooking a (probably) illegal u-turn.

* * *

They pull into their driveway when it's nearing dark. Carl helps Rick into the house and onto the couch, and then collapses next to him. When he goes to check his phone, he doesn't understand why Facebook won't load until he realizes that the AT&T logo in the top bar has suddenly been replaced with 'No Service'.

"Cell towers are down," Carl says.

Rick puts an arm around around his shoulders, pulling him into his side. "They'll probably be back."

Carl tilts his head, looking up at Rick. "You believe that?"

"Not really." Rick kisses his mouth, light and sweet. "I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. We're gonna be alright, Carl, I promise.”

He gives Rick a weak smile, but somehow he can’t believe a thing that Ricks says.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this chapter took so long to get up. i've been going through some stuff. i tried to make this one longer & more fast-paced than the previous ones. let me know how i did? comments and kudos are super appreciated ♥

The next week is uneventful for Rick and Carl at least. They lose power but stay in the house regardless. They hear distant booms one night that Carl can only guess are bombs. Neither of them get much sleep that night.

Rick concentrates on resting so he'll heal and Carl spends time reading and worrying. They ration the food they have and run water in the bathtub and sinks and fill any containers they can find. Carl does most of the work because Rick is still recovering. They settle on sponge baths to keep clean. They've talked about trying to leave again because the neighborhood is quiet. Mostly everyone is gone. They haven't heard a car pass in few days. Rick says they'll go in a day or two.

With nothing much to do after dark Rick and Carl crawl into bed earlier than usual. Outside it's starting to rain and Carl curls up against Rick's side as if doing so will make any of this go away.

Rick wraps an arm around Carl's shoulders and kisses the top of his head. Rick's gun rests on the bedside table next to the flash light at Carl's insistence, just in case. They doze off and on for a few hours before it starts to rain. The house is pitch black so when Carl glances at his slowly dying phone to see what time it is, his eyes burn.

"You awake?" Rick asks groggily.

"Yeah, I can't sleep."

"We're fine for now. You should try to sleep."

Carl nods and rests his head against Rick's chest. He wonders if Lori and her baby are safe. He knows Shane will take care of her but there's only so much Shane can do. He tries to shake these thoughts from his head, finally settling on remembering the time he and Rick first kissed. The much happier memory puts his mind at ease and he lifts his head, straining to kiss Rick's mouth. Rick kisses back and Carl sighs through his nose as he feels the tension is his shoulders slowly relax. He's almost asleep when the distinct sound of breaking glass jerks him awake, following by the hurried opening and closing of the door.

Carl stares at Rick wide-eyed in the darkness. Rick pushes Carl aside and reaches for his gun and flashlight. There's no way Rick should be the one to go check out whatever it is because he's still limping (though just barely).

"Stay," Rick whispers.

Carl nods but he's never been good at following orders. Impulsively, he tiptoes behind Rick to see a shadowy figure in the corner of the living room. Almost demon-like moans can be heard outside the door.

Rick shines the light on the figure just as soon as the person pulls whatever the hell kind of weapon that is on Rick. "Don't move! Lower that thing. Now!"

"You first!"

Carl is stupid and doesn't think before he ducks under Rick's raised arms and stands in front of him. The whatever-the-hell weapon is still pointed at both of them. "What, you're gonna shoot an unarmed kid? Lower the fucking weapon."

Rick grabs Carl's shoulder and pulls him behind his body. Carl is surely going to get a talk about that little stunt later. But the man lowers his weapon and shakes his rain-soaked hair. Rick lowers his gun, too. The only sounds in the room for a moment are the pouring rain and the moaning outside.

"Get away from the windows, you're gonna stir 'em up. Turn off that flashlight.”

"Who?" Carl and Rick ask in unison.

"You ain't seen 'em yet? Turn off the damn light!"

Rick hesitates but finally cuts the light. Carl feels his hand rest on his shoulder. The man motions them over to the window and Carl hesitates, but Rick steps out behind him and Carl follows.

It's nearly impossible to see, but outside at least a dozen people in torn, tattered clothes are at the edge of the porch, reaching towards the house to no avail. As Carl is pulling away he stumbles and Rick decides they should move. They migrate to the back of the house, Carl holding onto Rick's arm as he leads them. They settle in the bedroom on the floor, Rick and Carl on one side of the room and the mysterious man with the whatever-the-hell weapon on the other side. Tense isn't quite the right word for their current situation; it's quiet aside from the rain on the roof. In here they can't hear the moans.

"What's your name?" Rick asks.

There's a short pause. "Daryl."

"I'm Rick," Rick speaks. "This is Carl."

When Rick doesn't refer to him as his son Carl pauses, realizing for the first time that they can be anonymous. They can whoever they want to be. They don't have to hide from anyone. Not anymore. He takes comfort in this realization, leaning against his father's side. "What's wrong with those people? Is it like that guy on the news?"

"They're dead only they're not. Haven’t y'all been outside at all?"

"We've been stayin' inside. That's the last we heard on the news: to stay indoors and be safe."

"Those dead people outside—nothin' stops 'em but a hit to the brain. They bite you, fever kills you, you die 'n' then come back as one of them. World's a shitstorm of crazy. You’ve been in here the whole time?"

"Whole time," Rick confirms. "We tried to leave when everything started. Roads were so damn backed up we turned around and came home. I got shot at work a couple days before so I wasn't in any shape to be goin' anywhere."

"You a cop?"

"Sheriff’s deputy."

Daryl grunts. "Guess I'm in good hands then."

"Guess so."

* * *

Carl falls asleep sometime in the early morning when it's still dark. He wakes up stiff and sore from sleeping on the wooden floors. His first instinct is to look for Rick who's nowhere in sight. His heart races instantly upon this realization and he jumps up, glancing around the room. He kicks something on the floor and realizes it's Rick's gun. His heart's pounding and he's about to call out for Rick when he hears quiet voices coming from the front room. Carl quickly follows the source and finds Rick talking to the man from last night. He says nothing, rushing to his father and all but throwing himself into his arms.

Rick puts an arm around Carl's shoulders, stopping mid-sentence to address him. "Hey."

"I woke up and you were gone," Carl mumbles childishly. He still doesn't let go. "I got scared."

"I'm here," Rick reassures him. He hugs for a moment longer and then lets go much to Carl's dismay. He takes a moment to look at Daryl now that it's daylight and he can see. Daryl is wearing black pants, a sleeveless black shirt and a leather vest that's seen better days. His hair's long, but not as long as Carl's, and he's got nice arms (not that Carl is looking).

"Thing is," Daryl continues, "the highway is blocked with pile ups. Most everyone went into Atlanta where they told people to go. No one said anything 'bout them bombing the place."

"Yeah," Rick drawls, staring out the kitchen window. "We heard that, thought it best to stay put for a while longer. We've been talking about leaving for a while."

Carl looks up at Rick and Daryl glances at Carl. "Is it just you two?"

"Yep." Rick puts a hand on Carl's shoulder. "Carl, this is Daryl."

"Yeah," Carl says smartly, "I know." Daryl gives Carl a look and squints his eyes like he's the one whose house was invaded last night. "How do we know we can trust you?"

"You don't," Daryl says. Oddly enough, that sets Carl at ease. He doesn't know why but he figures if someone had something to hide, they'd be more offended by a lack of trust.

Rick and Daryl go back to talking and Carl looks at the large weapon on the breakfast table. He realizes now in the daylight that it's a crossbow. It looks old and beat up and heavy. He wonders where it came from and if there's a story behind it. And why the hell a crossbow, of all things? Carl really has to pee but he doesn't want to leave Rick's side. Actually, he wants to climb in Rick's lap and sleep against his shoulder because he's still a little shaken from waking up alone. So he stays, silent and barely listening.

Rick turns to him them when the conversation with Daryl dies down. "We're talkin' about leavin'. Daryl lost his group a couple days ago."

"Lost?"

"Got separated," Daryl cuts in. "Tried trackin' 'em but got caught in that rain last night. Walkers nearly got me before I got in here."

"Broke in," Carl corrects him.

Daryl squints at him again and looks as if he's got an insult on the tip of his tongue, but it never leaves his mouth.

Rick glances at Daryl. "Can we have a minute?"

Daryl nods and grabs his bow before stepping onto the front porch.

"Why do you think you can trust him?" Carl asks immediately after Daryl is out of earshot. "You don't know him."

"You forget I'm a cop," Rick says. He runs a hand through Carl's hair, working out the tangles with his fingers. "I'd like to think I'm a good judge of character. If his story checks out, maybe we'll have a group to stick with. We've been stuck in this house too long."

"And we've survived just fine," Carl reminds him, "until last night when that asshole broke in."

"We can't just ignore what's goin' on. We gotta face it."

It slips out of his mouth before he realizes it: "I don't want to." And then his eyes begin to tear and he can't blink them away. A couple slip down his cheeks and he wipes at them angrily.

Rick sighs. "We have to go, Carl. We have to. We can go to the station and see if there's anything left to take with us. Station's got its own propane system, the pilot should still be on. That could mean a hot shower before we hit the road."

Carl nods. Though the idea doesn't seem like a terrible one, he'd much rather stay in his own house and read comic books and turn his phone on in small increments to listen to a song or two. "What about us?"

"What about us?" Rick echoes.

"Do we... do we tell him who we are—what we are?"

"He doesn't have to know," Rick breathes. He pauses and then lets out a slow breath upon this realization. He pulls Carl in and presses a kiss to his forehead. "No one has to know."

"So you're not—you're not Dad anymore. You're Rick."

"Guess so."

Carl loops his arms around Rick's torso loosely, head against his shoulder. He's scared but won't admit it. Rick is probably scared too, but he's the adult in this situation so he doesn't get to act scared. After a few more seconds Rick pulls back and steps around Carl, headed for the back porch. "Get your stuff ready. Pack whatever we have left of the food in one of those plastic containers your mom used for Christmas decorations."

Carl nods, heading to the back of the house to do as Rick says.

* * *

By mid-day they've got the truck packed up again. Rick and Carl are in the cab and Daryl is in the back, bow poised and ready to shoot at anything that threatens them. Rick is driving at his insistence and he's almost healed so Carl doesn't fight it. He watches the trees and vacant houses as they pass. He sees one of them—a walker—stumbling down the street in front of Sophia's house. He hopes she and Carol made it out of the city unscathed. There's no way of knowing.

Rick reaches over as if he can hear Carl's thoughts and sets a hand on his thigh. "We're gonna be alright."

Carl doesn't believe it, not even a little. He nods anyway. Maybe agreeing with Rick will give Rick the confidence he needs to lead them out of this.

Rick pulls into the station and parks the truck, cutting the engine and getting out. Carl follows close behind and Daryl hops out of the bed of the truck. A growling walker catches their attention; Carl grabs Rick's arm upon seeing it. But Daryl raises his bow and shoots it through the eye before it can take another step. He does it with such poise and grace that Carl is _angry_ about it. How can be possibly be so cool and collected?

"Gotta get the brain," Daryl says, retrieving his arrow.

Carl breathes deeply, his heart still pounding.

Rick leads them into the station silently. They check the gun locker to find it fully stocked. At least Carl doesn't have to worry about that. Now he can have a gun to use if he needs it, no practice necessary. Rick locks the door. "We'll get 'em after we shower."

* * *

Like Rick said, the station is still supplied with hot water. Rick and Carl shower separately much to Carl's dismay, though it would be awkward with Daryl here. Carl's so glad to have something besides a sponge bath that he washes his hair twice. After, they change into the clothes they brought along. Daryl ends up wearing a pair of Rick's jeans and a black button down. Carl hates having to see anyone else in Rick's clothes. But because of this, Carl grabs Rick's denim shirt and slips it over his own t-shirt. It's too big, but he doesn't care. He's gotta stake his claim after all.

When Daryl and Rick go back to the gun locker, Carl takes Rick's gun and heads over to Rick's desk in the abandoned part of the station. He's on a mission; he finds Rick's brown hat sitting on his desk where he left it the morning he got shot. He picks it up and plops it on his head. He's too fucking pleased with himself to notice the walker that sneaks up behind him.

It grabs him by the right shoulder and he lets out a sharp gasp, unable to turn around. With all his might he shoves the walker off, pushing it to the ground. He pulls the gun and shoots it in the eyes between the head, like Daryl said.

"Carl!" Rick comes limp-running, Daryl on his heels. "Are you okay?"

Carl stares at the body on the ground, rotten flesh and all. He doesn't realize he's shaking until Rick's gun falls from his grip and clanks against the linoleum floor.

"You get bit?" Daryl asks hurriedly, pushing in front of Rick to examine him. No answer.

"Carl," Rick snaps, much louder this time.

"I'm fine," he says finally, slowly raising his gaze to meet his father's. He must have tears in his eyes because Rick's face softens instantly and pulls Carl into his arms.

"Sorry," Carl whispers. "I'm sorry. I'm fine."

Rick holds onto him for a second more before letting go. "What the hell were you doing?"

"I..." He wipes his face, pointing to the hat on his head. "I wanted to bring it with me. Stupid, I know." He sniffles.

Rick sighs like he's disappointed. "C'mon, we're ready to go."

Rick leads the way and Daryl grabs the gun bag on the way out. Carl follows behind them, head lowered.

"The kid's weak," Daryl says as if Carl isn't in earshot. 

Rick keeps his gaze straight forward as they walk out to the truck. “He’s scared.”

"He ain't gonna make it."

Carl pretends he doesn't hear them.


	10. Chapter 10

It's like a road trip, Carl tries to tell himself, sandwiched between his father and Daryl in the cab of Rick's pickup. The windows are down, the highway abandoned until—

"Slow down," Daryl says suddenly.

"I see it." Rick's foot hits the brake gently until the tires stop. Like Daryl said a few hours ago the highway is blocked with abandoned cars zigzagged across both lanes.

"Should I hop off and go around?" Rick asks.

"Nah." Daryl opens the truck door and climbs out, slinging his bow over his shoulder.

"Where are you going?"

"Check out the cars, maybe there's stuff we can use. Gonna run out of gas sooner or later. Hop out."

Carl watches Daryl. Something about him makes Carl tense and nervous. He doesn't know how Daryl can possibly be as well adjusted to this new world as he appears to be. He wonders if maybe it's an act to veil his true human emotions. But then Carl remembers something about nature's fight or flight response. But it this case, it's more like fight or die.

Rick cuts the engine and Carl's body seizes. He doesn't like the idea of getting stopping at all, much less getting out in an open area. "Why are we stopping?"

"He's right." Rick unbuckles his seat belt and grabs his gun before getting out. He peers at Carl through the open window. "C'mon."

Carl hesitates. "I don't want to."

"C'mon," Rick coaxes. Carl sits there reeling for a minute because Rick is literally telling him to get out in the open where dead-not-dead people are stalking around. "Stick with me, you'll be fine."

"I don't—"

"Carl. Now."

Carl doesn't want to get out, but he wants to argue even less. His heart still hasn't stopped hammering in his chest since they left home. He grabs the gun Rick gave him in the sheriff station parking lot. As he slides to the edge of the truck seat and hops out, the sound of his shoes hitting the pavement echoes in his ears. Everything is so much quieter now. He follows behind Rick until Rick slows his pace and puts a hand between his shoulders, rubbing gently.

They walk past the cars, some unoccupied and some filled with dead-not-dead people. The most promising vehicle of all is a mini van, apparently, because Rick makes a bee line to it. It's occupied, they find out shortly, with two adults. Rick opens the passenger's door, gun aimed. Two shots and the front seats are clear. But groans continue to come from the backseat and Rick pulls the sliding door open to find two used-to-be-kid walkers.

All at once, Carl's breath leaves his body. He bends over, hands on his knees. He dry heaves at first and then he's throwing up the little bit of dry cereal and water he ate before they left the house. Carl hears Rick mutter a quiet "I'm sorry" before firing two more shots and Carl decides he can't handle this. He takes a few steps back and bumps into something. He turns around, panicked, before realizing he's just backed into a truck. He sinks to the ground, hugging his knees as he watches Rick scavenge through the minivan. Daryl is God knows where.

As Carl sits on the warm pavement the breeze of a late spring evening splashes his face. It makes it a little easier to breathe until he realizes that the breeze carries the smell of death and decay. He thinks about his mom and hopes she's okay. He knows Shane will take care of her, but Shane's only a human and it's no longer a human's world. The last time they spoke, Carl didn't even tell her he loved her. They've had their differences and they've both done and said things they shouldn't have but he still loves her and he'll probably never get the chance to tell her that again. He'll probably never get to meet his brother or sister. His brother or sister probably won't even make it in this world. He's not even sure _he'll_ make it in this world. But then he remembers Rick and how he has to try for Rick's sake.

Carl looks up to see his father has pulled supplies out of the van. From what he can see there's a case of bottled water and a few blankets. Rick tosses something in a rattly container on top of the blankets before grabbing a bottle of water and walking over. He squats down, elbows on his knees. "You alright?"

Carl shakes his head. "I threw up."

"I know." Rick settles a hand on Carl's cheek, his thumb stroking his cheekbone. He offers him the bottle of water and Carl takes it with a shaking hand, twisting the cap off and taking a sip. He rinses and spits—wasteful, probably, but worth it to get the vile taste out of his mouth.

They hear footsteps and Rick stands before helping Carl to his feet. It's just Daryl. "Find anything?"

"Couple blankets, bottled water and a thing of ibuprofen. You?

Daryl nods before producing two hunting knives from his back pocket. "Take 'em," he says. Rick takes them, handing one to Carl. "They'll save on ammo but first you gotta get close enough to use 'em."

Carl grips the knife tightly, blade facing backwards. He knows that was a jab at him and has to wonder again why they're even with this guy.

"What else did you find?"

"That's it," Rick shrugs. "Barely had any time."

"What all did you check?"

"Just that van."

"Just the one?"

Rick doesn't answer him and instead glances at Carl, which kind of is his answer. And then Daryl glances at him, too, and looks back at Rick.

"It's gonna be dark pretty soon. We should find somewhere to stay."

"Alright," Daryl agrees easily. "I found a couple gas cans though. We should siphon what we can outta these cars."

"Shouldn't we take a second one?" Carl asks quietly.

"Why?" Daryl asks.

He motions to Rick, hesitant to continue. "His truck's old. It couldn't hurt to have a backup, right?"

"We'd use double the gas," Daryl reasons.

"I can't remember the last time the battery was replaced," Rick interjects.

Carl continues, "So if the battery dies and we have no way to jump it, what good is extra gas gonna do?"

"He's right," Rick says. "Grab another truck." His eyes scan the cluster of cars before he gestures to a nearby F250. "That one, if the keys are there."

Daryl walks off with a nod and Carl takes a sip from his bottle of water. As Daryl clears the Chevy out Carl helps Rick search a few of the other cars. They come away with a few nonperishable snacks. Carl finds a bag of M&Ms in a purse and Rick tells him to keep them; no need to share. They also find a flashlight and a couple of emergency flares they take with them just in case.

The roar of a diesel truck causes them both to look over. Daryl revs the engine a few times before cutting it off. Rick and Carl are able to search a couple more cars before Daryl comes back with a piece of scavenged tubing and a gas can. He sets them down beside Rick. "We'll keep watch. C'mon," Daryl says with a jerk of his head.

Carl sighs but follows Daryl anyway. They stop in a clear area of the highway. The sky is turning gray and it's getting cooler outside. It's stupid of Daryl to put him on watch, Carl thinks, because he's useless. Also, it's awkward. He and Daryl are a few feet apart but far away enough that Rick can't hear them.

Daryl pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a mini matchbook, lighting up. "You even legal?" he asks around the filter of his cigarette.

Carl eyes him from under the brim of Rick's hat, gun gripped limply in his hand. It's not that he doesn't know how to use it, it's that he doesn't want to have to use it. His ears burn with embarrassment. "What?" He glances at Rick who's still kneeling with the gas can. He's annoyed and a little pissed because it's none of Daryl's fucking business and he is legal, thank you very fucking much.

Daryl does nothing indicating that he actually hears what Carl says. He ignores him completely.

A short while later Rick calls them over, saying the cans are full. It's nearly dark and they should've been gone a long time ago.

"You know of anywhere we can go?" Rick asks, loading the cans into the back of his truck.

"There's a house up the road," Daryl says. "My group passed it a couple days ago before we got separated."

"Lead the way. We'll follow."

* * *

They pull up to a small two story farm house shortly after dark. They wait for Daryl to get out first and then follow. Carl still has the knife Daryl gave him. His gun sits heavy in his pocket.

The house is clear so they bring in the blankets they found and their pillows from home. They settle in the living room floor which is hard and uncomfortable, but at least they're together and they have shelter for the night. Carl sets up a shared sleeping space as Rick and Daryl secure the house.

Daryl pulls the curtains over the windows and makes sure they've got a second exit they can use if need be. He's good at this survival thing. So good, in fact, that Carl wonders why Daryl is with them in the first place. He could clearly do all this on his own, so why even bring him and Rick along?

Carl settles on the pallet of blankets with his backpack and flashlight, kicking his shoes off and setting them beside his backpack. He does the same with Rick's hat. Rick joins him shortly after Daryl says he'll take first watch, dropping a granola bar and a bottle of water in his lap.

"I'm not hungry," Carl mutters.

"You should eat. It's been a long day."

"So should you."

"I already did." Rick scoots over until their sides are pressed together and puts an arm around Carl, pulling him even closer. Carl relents and rests his head on Rick's shoulder. "Eat."

Carl sighs but picks the granola bar up and opens it, taking a bite. He has to admit that it tastes pretty damn good for what it is. He relaxes when Rick's fingers comb through his hair and massage his scalp. Rick's hand slides down his neck to his shoulders. "You're so tense."

Still chewing his granola bar, Carl silently scoots forward. Rick moves behind him and starts to work out the knots between Carl's shoulders. Carl finishes his granola bar shortly after, tossing the wrapper aside. He moans softly. "That feels good," he says, his head moving loosely with the ministrations.

Shoulder rubs turn into neck kisses turn into Rick wrapping his arms around Carl and craning his neck to kiss him properly on the mouth. Carl runs his hands over Rick's arms, leaning back into him. He wants Rick, wants him more than anything. He knows it'd make him feel better, help him relax, make him forget all of the horrors he's seen and smelled in 1 short day. And then one of Rick's hands slips between his thighs and Carl knows they shouldn't, not with Daryl in such close proximity. Rick presses one last kiss to his mouth. "Lie back."

Carl's not gonna protest, not when it's been so long since they've had this. He stretches out and watches with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth as Rick undoes his jeans and shimmies them down his legs, along with his briefs.

"What if Daryl comes in?"

"He won't," Rick promises.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." His tone says what his mouth doesn't: _You need this. We need this_.

Carl sits up momentarily, slipping Rick's denim shirt off and pulling his t-shirt off. Rick reaches over and grabs the denim shirt. "You should put it back on," he says softly.

Carl does as Rick asks, his cheeks flushed. He can't remember the last time he's felt this shy or nervous around Rick. With the denim shirt splayed open and only covering his shoulders and arms, Carl lies back.

Rick takes a moment to remove his own clothes before hovering over Carl on all fours. "What do you want?" Carl spreads his legs a little and pushes Rick's head down, resulting in a soft chuckle. Rick complies, dragging his lips down Carl's pale torso.

"Here?" Rick asks softly, flicking his tongue over the head of his cock. Carl's hips give an involuntary buck and Rick chuckles. "No, 'course not."

Carl closes his eyes as Rick moves back and strokes his hands down the sides of Carl's thighs to his knees. He lifts them up with ease and leans down, licking over his hole. Carl gasps louder than he should. It hasn't even been that long since they've fucked but this—this is the one intimate thing Carl loves the most—makes everything else fade away. The sights, the smells, the fear are all background noise as Rick unravels him stroke by stroke of his tongue.

Rick's always been good at this. So good, in fact, that there are instances where Carl will choose this over fucking, or he'll let Rick fuck him and after he'll come undone with Rick's lips latched onto his open hole.

Carl lets out a slow breath and runs his fingers through Rick's curls, coaxing him closer. Much to his dismay, Rick pulls back and nips at his inner thigh. "Flip over." Carl obeys, flipping onto his belly and rising onto his hands and knees.

Rick places kisses along his spine, setting a hand on his thigh and balancing himself with the other. Carl's cock throbs between his legs as the warmth of Rick's breath seeps against his cheeks. He kisses right above his ass, moving his palms to his cheeks, squeezing and spreading them apart. "Beautiful," he whispers before licking right over his hole.

Carl's arms nearly tremble where they hold him up. It's been so long since they've even touched each other, let alone had time for this. The noise Carl emits when Rick's tongue swipes over his hole is embarrassing, something between a squeal and a whimper. Whatever it is, it gets Rick chuckling and then Rick pushes him onto his belly. Carl collapses onto the pallet with a soft 'oomph' and feels Rick's arms hook under his thighs before he dives in fully, face buried in Carl's ass.

"Fuck, Rick," he groans. He reaches around, placing his hand on the back of Rick's head and pushing his face impossibly closer.

Much to Carl's dismay, Rick pulls back. "Rick, huh?"

Carl pushes Rick's head back down, curling his toes. "Please."

Rick obliges but changes it up a bit, moving his left hand and slipping a finger inside of him. The feeling of being filled even with the smallest finger leaves Carl breathless. "You want me to fuck you?"

"Yeah."

"It's gonna hurt," Rick says remorsefully, dropping a kiss on his back.

"I brought lube."

Rick's finger slips out. "You—you brought lube," he states, not asks.

"Mhm." Carl reaches over, grabbing his backpack. He digs around for a moment until his fingers grasp the bottle—the half-empty one, not the full one—and he pulls it out triumphantly.

"Fuck, I love you," Rick says huskily, taking the bottle and leaning forward to seize Carl's mouth in a heated kiss. Carl grins against his lips and lays back, spreading his legs in invitation. Rick settles between them and uses a conservative amount of lube to slick his cock. He pushes just the head in and Carl's jaw clenches. It burns, but he's impatient and Rick's impatient. Rick gives him a minute to adjust, leaning down to nuzzle his neck. Carl clings to him, wrapping his legs around Rick's waist and digging his fingers into Rick's shoulders. He reaches between his legs, stroking himself before Rick even gets fully moving.

Rick dips down and captures his mouth in a hot kiss, one that Carl's eager to return. He parts his lips at the first swipe of Rick's tongue between them. Rick begins to thrust slowly at first and Carl's breath catches in his throat. Soon after, discomfort fades to pleasure and with each snap of Rick's hips Carl emits a breathy moan.

Their bodies give way to orgasm way too soon; Carl when Rick's hand replaces his own and strokes him to completion and Rick shortly after when he spills himself deep inside Carl. Still fit together like two pieces of a perfectly cut puzzle, Carl kisses the side of Rick's neck and ruffles the back of his hair.

Rick finally slips out and moves to the side, grabbing for his jeans and pulling them on. He grabs Carl's black briefs and tosses them to him. Carl pulls them on with all the effort in the world. They haven't even been gone 24 hours and he's already exhausted. Rick settles in beside him, slipping an arm over his narrow hips and kissing his cheek softly. "Sleep," he murmurs against his skin.

Outside, there's a distant rumble of thunder. Carl doesn't think he'll be able to sleep, but he owes it to Rick to try.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry it's taken so long to update this; i've had a lot going on. as always, comments are much appreciated. ♥

The following morning Carl wakes feeling grossly sticky but somewhat rested. The air is thick and humid and when he looks over, Rick's no longer next to him. He stands up and pulls on his clothes, hearing quiet voices coming from the open front door. Daryl is skinning something on the porch, maybe a rabbit. Carl can't be sure.

"Breakfast?" he asks hoarsely, turning their attention toward him.

Rick smiles and cups the back of Carl's head, fingers threading in his hair. "You slept heavy."

Carl crosses his arms and looks down. "I was tired."

"We're leavin' as soon as we eat. Fire's already goin'."

When Carl nods and goes back into the house, Rick follows him. He grabs Carl by the wrist and spins him gently, pulling their chests together like they're not in the middle of the end of the world. Carl nearly melts against him, face pressed against his chest. "I'm still tired."

Rick rests his chin on top of Carl's head, threading his fingers through his hair. "You should go back to sleep. I'll wake you when the food's done."

"Did you sleep?"

"Some," Rick nods, scrubbing his fingers against Carl's scalp. Carl feels him drop a kiss to the top of his head before he pulls back. "Go back to bed," Rick says just before walking out.

Carl shakes his hair from his face and has to admit the offer is tempting, but he needs to get their things together to at least feel like he's helping. He rummages in his backpack for his toothbrush and runs it over his teeth with the minimal amount of toothpaste, spitting out onto the back porch.

As he packs up their small sleeping space his mind drifts to Lori. He wonders how she's doing, how Shane is, if they found a group of people. If she's still pregnant, if she thinks about him as much as he thinks about her. Then he reasons it's silly; of course she thinks about him.

Carl stands up and grabs his backpack, their blankets and pillows, carrying them out to the truck and tossing them in the back. He glances over and sees Rick and Daryl still talking. Daryl says something and Carl watches with irrational jealousy as Rick chuckles. He doesn't think there's anything to worry about, but he can't be sure.

* * *

After breakfast they set out on the road again. Daryl's leading the way, Rick following behind. It's all Carl can do to keep his eyes open. He's wondering about Sophia and Carol when Rick's voice breaks the silence.

"You okay?"

Carl nods a little. "Yeah," he says, though he's lying. "I can drive if you're tired."

"I'm alright." Rick reaches over, running his fingers through Carl's hair. "I wanted to buy you a a car for your eighteenth birthday. Just about have the down payment saved up."

Carl looks over at him, smiling a little. "What are you gonna buy me?"

Rick strokes his hair again. "Doesn't matter," he says, voice soft

"Tell me."

His hand migrates from Carl's hair to his knee. "Mustang, maybe. Seems like something you'd like."

Carl snort-laughs. "That's so cliché."

Rick grins, eyes still focused on the road. "Tell me you wouldn't love it."

"I would! It's just cliché."

Rick's voice softens and it's evident he's working to keep his tone even. "Wish I'd done it when you turned seventeen."

Carl glances over, the mood of the conversation shifting. He senses a certain sadness in Rick's tone and attempts to soothe it with: "It's okay. I mean, if you had I probably would've sucked your dick more."

Rick laughs and it's a beautiful sound. Carl reaches over, placing his hand on top of Rick's where it rests on his knee. "We'll be okay," Rick says softly.

It's not fair, though, and Carl realizes that. He won't get to graduate from high school, never had the chance to adopt a dog, never got to take long drives with Rick on Fall afternoons.

He misses the hum of the box fan. He misses quiet Sunday afternoons. He misses sleeping in clean sheets and he misses long moments of comfortable silence. Nowadays, silence is filled with fear.

"What if it's not, though? What if we don't find Daryl's group?"

"Then we'll stick with Daryl if he'll have us. He's smart, he knows what he's doin'."

Carl's voice rises just a notch. "How can you trust him when we don't know him?"

"I just do. He hasn't given me a reason not to."

"You've known him for all of like two days."

Rick sighs and pulls his hand from Carl's knee. Carl goes back to resting his head against the window and wishing he were stuck in school right now instead of driving through a deserted country town.

"Hey."

"What?" Carl sighs.

Rick reaches and grabs Carl's hand, interlacing their fingers. "I know you're scared. I need you to hear me; I love you, I'll keep you safe if it's the last goddamn thing I do."

Carl knows Rick's just trying to make him feel better. In some artificial way, it does. But what Rick doesn't seem to understand is that he is not in control anymore, not of anything.

When Carl says nothing, Rick squeezes his hand. "Carl."

"Alright," Carl relents, "okay. I love you too."

Carl lets Rick hold his hand for as long as he wants. He closes his eyes and tries to doze off. He thinks about how Rick took them for a drive after their first argument as the weird dysfunctional couple they are today. He doesn't even remember what they started arguing about or how it escalated to screaming and ended with Carl in tears, angry at Rick and crying because of it. Rick had left to get his keys and coaxed Carl out to the truck. He guesses he wasn't that mad after all; from what he remembers, it didn't take much convincing on Rick's part to get Carl outside.

Carl's head feels heavy on his shoulders with each passing mile. He's just nodding off when he hears a loud pop. Rick rips his hand from Carl's grip. "Shit." Carl opens his eyes and looks ahead to see Daryl hopping out of the cockeyed truck in front of them. Upon further inspection, he sees it has a flat tire. Rick hops out of the truck. "Sit tight."

There's literally nothing else to do, Carl thinks. He pulls his phone from his pocket and turns it on. The battery is at 39%. If he keeps turning it on just for a few minutes a day, he can make it last a little longer. He opens his photos, sorts through the dozens of selfies and finds the picture he took with Rick weeks ago at the cafe. He flips through the rest of the pictures and rests his head against the window. It's so quiet and peaceful that when Rick pulls the truck door open, it startles him.

Daryl tosses his bow into the back of the truck along with the rest of the supplies from the spare. Carl turns his phone off and sighs.

"He's drivin'," Rick says, climbing in and scooting close to him.

"Great," Carl sighs. Rick pecks his cheek and Carl waits for Daryl to get back in and start driving before he asks, "How much longer before we get there?"

"Probably another hour if shit goes right."

* * *

Of course, they have shit luck and have to detour. A herd of undead steers them an hour out of the way. In the dark of the truck, Carl clings to Rick's hand as Daryl does his best to navigate the back roads.

"We should stop for the night. It's not safe."

"We ain't that far out," Daryl says back.

"Please," Carl pleads. "I'm tired. Let's just stop."

"Nah."

"Daryl," Rick nearly growls. "Stop."

Of course, Daryl slams his foot on the break and sends them all forward into the dashboard. "We're stopped," Daryl snaps. He puts the truck in park right on the road and cuts the engine, hopping out. "I'll take first watch. You fuckin' babysit."

"Asshole," Carl spits after him. Daryl ignores him and slams the car door shut, grabbing his bow and walking off. "Why are we even with him?"

Rick scoots over and coaxes Carl into the crook of his arm. "Because he's got a group and we need a group."

He rests his hand on Rick's thigh and squeezes it softly. "How's your leg?"

"It's okay." Rick kisses the top of his head an rests his mouth there, kissing it twice more. He scoots all the way against the door and Carl takes the invitation to stretch across the seat and rest his head in Rick's lap. "Sleep," Rick whispers, stroking his hair. "I'm gonna try, too."

He doesn't need any invitation; he closes his eyes and he's out in seconds.

* * *

Carl wakes up to a gentle shove against his shoulder and looks up to find Daryl standing there. "We're leavin'," he says. "It's dawn."

Carl sits up, his vision blurry. "Where's Rick?"

"Outside. He's comin'."

He nods and within a minute or two, they're back on the road going 60 miles an hour. They turn off the main drag onto a long dirt road, eventually coming to a clearing. Inside the fence sits a large white farm house accompanied by a large barn in the back.

"You're staying here?" Carl asks in awe.

"Group does," Daryl nods, following the gravel path to the house. "I go back and forth."

Carl glances at Rick to see him whipping his head around in all directions. "You didn't say anything about a house. You said you lost your group. You said you got separated from them, you didn't say shit about a fuckin' house!" Rick pulls his gun and Daryl just glances over, slowly pulling up next to the porch.

A few people trickle out of the house, a young woman with short hair and an old man in a fishing hat. There's hollering, a loud "Daryl's back!" and in the background Carl hears Rick threatening Daryl to no avail. It all makes sense then when Lori bursts through the storm door and to the truck. Carl's frantic to get out, opening the door with trembling hands. "Mom? Mom!"

He nearly falls out and Lori catches him, hugging him tight. They're both crying and Rick seems to have calmed down, no longer yelling or threatening.

"How?" Carl asks into Lori's shoulder.

She pulls back and brushes Carl's bangs out of his face. "Daryl said he was a tracker, said he knew the area. He owed Shane a favor. Shane asked if he'd go get you two. I was praying the whole time y'all hadn't left." She hugs him tight once more before pulling away. "Come inside, we're eating breakfast. You can meet everybody."

"Okay," Carl says. He glances over his shoulder as he walks into the house only to find Rick staring back at him hopelessly.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Carl learns that Lori and Shane met their small group on the gridlocked highway out of the city. She, Shane, a pizza delivery guy named Glenn, an old man named Dale, and Andrea, a civil rights attorney met up and veered off and away from everyone else despite Lori's protest. A few days after they set up camp near a quarry, Shane found Daryl in a tight spot without any arrows surrounded by the undead. Shane saved Daryl's life, for which Daryl was grateful for. Long story short, Daryl let slip that he owed Shane. Lori, after discovering Daryl was an expert hunter and tracker, convinced him to go look for Rick and Carl as payback for Shane saving him. But why didn't Daryl mention Shane and Lori before? Either way Daryl knows. Daryl fucking knows Carl is Rick's son. He knows they're a fucking couple. What the fuck are they supposed to do now?

Carl decides shortly after Lori's story that he needs to talk to Rick alone but he hasn't seen him since he came inside. After eating a scrambled egg and an apple, Carl drops his napkin on his plate and stands up. "Can I go?"

"You just got here," she says in disbelief.

He ignores her. "Thanks for breakfast." He walks out the front door to find Rick and Daryl unloading the stuff from the truck. Carl joins in by Rick's side, grabbing a tote of canned goods. "Can I talk to you?" he asks lowly.

"Not now," he says just as quietly. Rick turns away and tosses their pile of blankets onto the porch. "Did you get breakfast?" he asks at normal volume.

Carl's eyes flicker over to Daryl. "Yeah. Dad-"

"I know. We'll talk later, alright?"

"When?"

"I don't know, Carl," Rick snaps. "Just relax."

Carl drops the container of cans in the dirt halfway to the porch. "Fine," he says, going back inside.

* * *

He spends the better part of the afternoon snoozing on the sofa after setting up his real sleeping spot in the corner. He wakes up to the sound of soft voices in the kitchen, soon realizing it's his mother and the two younger girls in the house. He turns over and sees Rick dozing in the chair. He sits up and rubs his eyes, wishing they were alone. Wishing he could get up and go over and settle down on Ricks lap and kiss him awake and lick into his mouth and lazily ask what they should have for dinner. But the slamming of the storm door and 3 sets of footsteps reminds him that they aren't alone and they will probably never be alone again.

Carl sits up and goes to Rick anyway, squeezing his shoulder. "Dad."

Rick's eyes flutter open so quickly that Carl decides he couldn't have been too deep in sleep. "Hm?"

"Can we talk now?" Rick rubs his eyes and looks at his watch and nods. "I'll talk to Mom. Be right back."

He finds Lori in the kitchen with a dish towel thrown over her shoulder. Upon seeing Carl, she smiles. "Hey, sleepy head. Have a nice nap?"

"Yeah, Dad and I are gonna go look around if that's okay."

"Wish you wouldn't, dinner's gonna be ready soon."

"It'll be fast."

"Go." Lori sighs as if she's disappointed.

Carl doesn't give her the chance to change her mind and he walks outside to find Rick on the porch ready to go, gun holstered at his hip. He loops an arm around Carl's shoulders and Carl wishes Rick could lower it to his hip but for obvious reasons, he can't.

They start walking down the rode they came in on. Rick squeezes Carl's shoulder and allows his hand to drop, much to Carl's dismay.

"What do we do?" Carl asks, beating Rick to the punch. "What do we do? Daryl fucking knows."

"I know. He hasn't said anything yet, who knows if he will. Apparently he prefers to stay in a tent over the house," Rick gestures up the hill.

"Why didn't he say anything? Why wouldn't he say anything?"

"'Cause it's none of his business," Rick drawls. "I don't know, I have no idea."

"We'll never be alone again. There's so many people around, Dad, we were almost free and now—"

"Wouldn't you rather have your mom around?"

"No, I don't—I don't know, maybe. No," Carl spews because he honestly doesn't know. At least when things were normal he could have both; he could talk to Lori but still be with Rick. But now they're in the middle of this shitstorm of a world surrounded by a dozen people now and there's no way they'll ever be alone again.

Rick wraps his arm around Carl's shoulder again and pulls him close. Carl looks over and Rick seems to want to kiss him. Of course Rick wants to kiss him, hold him closer and closer until the sun sets and the night is dark and quiet and fear intensifies. Carl knows he does without Rick telling him as much.

"I'll talk to Daryl eventually," Rick tells him. "Till then we should keep things how they've been today."  
  
"Yeah, no shit. We don't have a choice. That's all we can do, that's literally all we can do."

Rick stops dead in his tracks and tugs Carl against him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. "Jesus, I'm gonna miss you."

Carl squeezes his eyes shut and loops his arms around Rick's torso. "Don't," he says weakly. "Stop. I can't think about it."

"I know." Rick noses the top of Carl's hair and pulls back. "Wanna walk the fence line before dinner?"

"Sure," Carl nods.

* * *

Dinner is bland chicken and vegetables but that doesn't matter because it's hot and it feels good on an empty stomach. Carl's banished to the kid's table, sitting strategically where he can glance up at Rick from across the room. Often when he looks up, he sees Rick staring back at him. Thankfully no one seems to notice; they're too wrapped up in their own conversations and stories about how they all came to be at the farm house.

Lori, Beth and Maggie clean up the kitchen while everyone else disperses. Carl follows Rick into the living room with his hands shoved in his back pockets.

"Wanna go outside?" Rick asks.

Carl shrugs, following Rick onto the back porch and out to the spot under the tree. Of course they can't touch or hold hands or make out under the trees like Carl wants, but Rick takes a seat at the base of the massive trunk and Carl sits beside him.

"What are we gonna do?"

"Knew you'd start with that," Rick mutters. He sighs deeply. "I talked to Hershel when you were asleep. He wants us to move on."

"What? We just got here, why—"

"Shane said Hershel gave them a week to stay to give Daryl a chance to bring us back. Now we're here, they gotta move on."

"I don't want to stay with them. Staying with them means we can't be together. I can't live like that."

Rick huffs softly and slips an arm around Carl's shoulders. "Don't be dramatic."

"I'm fuckin' serious, why the hell wouldn't Daryl say anything?"

"I'll talk to him." Rick draws Carl closer and Carl just lets him, defeated and exhausted. He presses his lips to the top of Carl's head. "Freedom was good while it lasted, huh?"

Carl''s quiet for a moment. Truthfully, they'd been free for a while, just behind closed doors. Every afternoon, every night, every morning they were inseparable. Sure, Carl hated it at the time, not able to go out in public with Rick and hold his hand and kiss him, but right now he'd trade anything for boring old days of monotony and sleepy kisses on the living room couch in front of the glow of the TV.

"Fuck, I hate this," Carl blurts. "I'm glad Mom's okay but I'm just... I don't want this, I want to be with you. I want to be with _you_."

"I know." Rick lowers his head, moving closer to Carl's ear and kissing it lightly.

"We should just leave," he starts. It's irrational and childish but he can't help but think about it. Just the two of them surviving in this dilapidated world, fighting for survival and reveling in each other when reality seems too much to handle. "We can go on a supply run and never come back." Just then, Carl hears the distinct groans of a roamer coming from behind them. Before he can move, Rick twists and draws his knife, standing up and driving it into the rotting skull. Carl scrambles to his feet, instinctively stepping behind Rick.

Rick shoves his knife back in his sheath and sighs in a way that lets Carl know he's disappointed. "Carl," he starts.

"I know," Carl whispers. He knows Rick's disappointed in him. He knows Rick won't always be around to protect him. He knows that he needs to learn how to defend himself and not freeze up and hide behind someone else. But he can't; he's not there yet. He's barely even accepted the fact that there are dead-not-dead people roaming the world—or at least the country. They have no way of knowing whether this thing had spread to other parts of the world. "It's hard..."

Rick sighs again and pulls Carl close, kissing his hair. "We should get back to the house. There might be others around." Carl doesn't protest when Rick leads him back toward the house.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update, my hard drive crashed with partially written chapters on it so I had to start from scratch. I bought a new laptop so updates should be more regular.

Late May thunderstorms barrel through Georgia, forcing the group to stay inside for the most part. They’re sprawled all over the house, Lori and Shane in the kitchen with Hershel, Hershel’s daughters upstairs. Daryl’s probably in his tent; no one really knows for sure but they don’t worry about him.

Carl sits on the floor playing dominos with a set of wooden ones Hershel found in the back of the pantry. Why they were there, no one really knows. Carl glances up at Rick as Glenn calculates his next move. Rick’s slumped in one of the arm chairs, one leg tossed over the side like he doesn’t give a shit. Carl stares at the expanse of his thighs until he grows warm and slightly uncomfortable. He literally has a boner. In a house full of people in a thunderstorm. In the middle of the end of the world. He quickly folds his legs, hoping no one’s noticed, and continues with the game.

The storm lets up sooner than later and Lori and Patricia and the girls start dinner. Carl wanders outside to where Rick is sitting on the porch and stands beside him.

“We’re leavin’ tomorrow,” Rick says after a long sigh.

Carl grips the edge of the porch and leans back against the railing, frowning when he feels the rain-soaked wood wet the back of his jeans. “All of us?”

“All of us,” Rick sighs again. “Daryl says he’s not comin’. We’ll see.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“There’s no point,” Rick tells him. “He’s not gonna say anything.”

“You said you’d talk to him,” Carl frowns.

“Would you stop?” Rick snaps. “He’s not gonna say anything, Carl. I’m more worried about where we go from here.”

Carl lets out a breath and lets his head hang. He hates it when Rick gets like this, absolutely fucking hates it. His eyes sting with tears that threaten to fall and he curses himself for being such a fucking crybaby. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

Rick sighs again. A third sigh, totally unnecessary. But he wraps an arm around Carl’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry, alright? Lotta stress.”

Carl wipes his eyes. “You’re right; I’m being stupid.” Since when did he turn into such a crybaby, anyway? No one gave him permission to do that.

Rick gives him a sympathetic look. He looks at Carl with tired blue eyes. “You’re goin’ through a lot; it’s alright.” He gives him another half-hug. “We’re supposed to start packin’ up. Your mom wanted you to help out.”

“Why can’t she help?” he replies childishly. “She’s pregnant, not crippled.”

“Carl.”

“Sorry.” Just then, Glenn emerges from the house waving a large road map and half jogs to Rick. Carl sighs because of course someone has to steal Rick’s attention from him. Carl listens to them babble about whether to head east or north and pushes off the porch, going inside to find Shane and Lori in the living room. “Dad said I need to help.”

Lori nods and wipes her hands on her jeans nervously. “Yes! You can help Shane roll up the sleeping bags.”

Carl looks at Shane as he kneels next to him on the floor and wonders why he has a job that Lori could easily handle. “Are you in charge now?”

“Guess so,” Shane says. “Where’s your old man?”

“My dad is outside,” Carl snaps. “If you’re in charge shouldn’t you be looking at a map trying to figure something out?”

“Well, sure, Carl, but we can’t leave without supplies, can we?” Shane retorts sarcastically, tying the strings on the sleeping bag in quick succession.

“Cause sleeping bags are gonna keep us from being eaten,” Carl replies in a mock oh, now I get it tone. “Good thinking.”

“Get out,” Shane says, waving him off. “Just go.”

Carl’s pissed, the kind of pissed that makes him feel like he’s going to explode or scream or something, but all he does is storm off to the kitchen and grab an apple. He hears Lori’s footsteps and rolls his eyes before he even hears her voice.

“Hey!” Lori grabs Carl by the wrist and starts yelling, not caring that everyone in the house can hear her. “What the hell is wrong with you? Shane didn’t do anything to you.”

“Shane is wasting time being a boy scout instead of trying to find us somewhere to go!” Carl snaps back, yanking his arm away. “Shane isn’t my dad. I don’t know why I have to answer to him.”

“You need to learn real quick how to be a team player,” Lori scolds him.

“You can’t just throw me into any situation and expect me to be fine with it,” Carl says. And maybe that’s a stupid thing to say; obviously none of them asked for this. No one wants their loved ones to turn to flesh eating monsters when they die.

Just then, Rick pokes his head in the screen door and calls, “Carl! Need your help.”

“Sorry,” Carl murmurs to Lori with a small frown. Whether or not he means it, he’s unsure. He walks onto the porch and follows Rick out to his truck. “Do you really need help or were you just trying to save me from Mom’s wrath?”

“Little bit of both,” Rick says, “grab those crates.”

“Shane doesn’t even know where we’re going yet,” Carl says as he does as he’s told. “He’s a shitty leader. You’d do better.”

“I don’t know that I’d want that responsibility,” Rick says, hoisting the last of their gear into the truck.

“You might have it someday,” he shrugs. “Something could happen to Shane. You should prepare yourself.”

Rick closes the tailgate with a grunt. Just then, Lori calls them for dinner.

* * *

Midnight or somewhere around there, something—someone—grabs Carl’s shoulder. He wakes with a gasp, bolting up before he realizes it’s just Rick. He rubs his blurry eyes, cursing Rick from waking him from what seems to be the best sleep he’s had since all of this started. Rick motions for Carl to follow him and without a thought, Carl does.

They slip through the back door and Rick grabs Carl’s hand, crouch- running to the woods behind the house. Carl follows with something that can only be described as a guilty giggle and squeezes Rick’s fingers, his whole body tingles in anticipation.

They’re a few hundred yards from the house when Rick pushes Carl against a tree, cupping his cheeks and kissing him vigorously. Carl barely has time to react before Rick slides his tongue into his mouth and grips his hips fiercely. Carl’s hot, burning hot, and his dick’s hard already. Rick’s hand leaves his cheek and pops the button on his jeans, pushing them past his hips and gripping him.

The sound Carl makes is embarrassing, a high-pitched sound that’s more of a squeal or anything as he bucks into Rick’s grip. “Daddy,” he whispers, nipples hard despite the warm muggy air that surrounds them.

Rick just chuckles and kisses down his neck, gripping Carl’s hips and spinning him to face the tree. Carl loses himself in the way Rick groans, holds his hips and lifts his shirt. And then Rick drops to his knees, kissing down his back to his ass and now he’s licking.

Carl’s bare feet dig into the dirt as his toes curl, hands against the tree to steady himself. He’s dripping pre-come already, his cock is throbbing with the thought of how dangerous, how wrong this is. How easily they could be caught. How much he doesn’t care about any of those things right now.

To Carl’s dismay Rick’s mouth slides up after one last playful nip to his cheek until Rick’s breath is hot and heavy in his ear. He hears the clinking of Rick’s belt as he undoes it. He hears Rick spit into his hand and then Rick is flush against his back again. Until now Carl kind of forgets about how they don’t have any lube and he know it’ll hurt but he doesn’t exactly know if he even cares right now.

“Shh,” Rick coos, kissing just below his ear as he lines himself up and pushes in.

So much for not caring. Pain is the first thing Carl feels; burning, stinging, stretching. He feels Rick pinching his hips and he’s breathless in the most unpleasant way. “Fuck,” he hisses. And then Rick starts moving and it’s even worse but he can’t imagine pushing Rick away. He needs this, needs it. He wraps his fingers around himself and the pain lessens, or maybe he’s just distracted. He strokes himself, emitting small moans and Rick’s panting in his ear. Neither of them will last long but Rick, seemingly, wants to make the best of it and drags a hand over Carl’s belly up to a nipple, pinching.

Carl groans as his head falls back against Rick’s shoulder, hand going faster. Rick’s beard scratches against his cheek and Rick presses him closer against the tree. He feels the bark scratch the pale skin on his belly as he comes, chest heaving.

Rick kisses his neck, warm and wet, and spills inside him moments later. When Rick pulls out he drags, doesn’t slide or slip, and it hurts. Carl whimpers and Rick whispers the softest “I’m sorry” as he does so. Carl stands straight as Rick fastens his jeans and belt and Rick helps Carl do the same, chuckling. “You okay?”

Carl shrugs because he’s a mix of emotions right now, feels sick and guilty and nostalgic. He presses himself into Rick’s chest and shrugs, wrapping his arms around him. “I wanna leave,” he whispers.

Rick sighs but holds him close and kisses his hair. If Carl closes his eyes for long enough he can pretend they’re back at home standing in the kitchen. But the distant growl of the undead brings him back to reality and Rick lets go of him long enough to stab it in the head.

“C’mon,” Rick says, motioning for Carl to follow.

Carl almost hesitates, almost says that no, he won’t go back to the house to be stuck with the group of people keeping him from the one thing he’s wanted for the past year; the possibility of an open relationship. Of course he and Rick can never be like a real couple, but the end of the world brings a lot of things with it: more desperation, less judgement, looser morals.

They’re nearly back to the house when a beam of light hits Carl’s eyes and he’s temporarily blinded.

“What the hell are y’all doing?” Shane whisper-yells.

“Had to piss,” Carl says easily. “You said none of us should go anywhere alone.”

Shane looks him up and down, aiming the flashlight at Carl’s feet. “Barefoot?” he asks skeptically.

“Couldn’t hold it,” he says, shrugging.

Shane gives them a dirty look, not one that says he knows what they’re up to, but one that says he’s curious as fuck and he’ll find out soon.

Another of the stray undead stumbles too close to the house for comfort and Rick walks over, kicking it to the ground with ease and stabbing the skull. “We should go in,” he says. “It’s dangerous out here.”


End file.
